Team Corporate Funding 2
by odmonkey
Summary: It's a sad day for the RED team when discovering the gender of their Pyro isn't the first thing on their minds - corporate smoozing is just not their style.   I do not own anything in this here story .
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I'm on a huge TF2 kick at the moment and I'm pretty desperate to do anything other than the work I'm supposed to be doing so ... taadaah I guess. **

**I think I've used every single cliché of the TF2 world in this story. I've done my very best to make a believable lady Pyro (writing without personal pronouns is bloody hard!) and tried to keep everything relatively in character. I apologise in advance for the terrible attempt at accents and any casual racism is purely from their characters. Also I thought they might install a screen in the base saying as they keep shooting the Administrator's messengers. **

**There might even be romance later on depending so read on and enjoy!**

XXXXX

"Vhat is all zhe noise?" Medic approached the group of men that appeared to be almost hiding behind the large couch in the rec room. You could hear the commotion all the way down the hall to his infirmary.

Engineer risked missing some of the action to grin at Medic before turning his attention back to the scuffle, "Just watching Pyro dispensin' some frontier justice."

Medic's reply was cut off by whoops from the assembled mercs. Rolling his eyes he pushed his way to the front, "Who is in trouble zhis time? Ahh Scout, natürlich."

Heavy slapped him on the shoulder, missing the way Medic's knees buckled from the force, "Leetle baby Scout was touching flamethrower."

'Leetle baby Scout' was sure as hell paying for it too. For a terrifying psychopath Pyro was pretty easy going during downtime and had a long fuse. All the energy and pent up aggression - and there was a lot - contained within Pyro's abnormal brain was saved exclusively for the BLUs. Scout was always pushing the boundaries of what was going to get him a beating but even he knew that the flamethrower, Pyro's pride, joy and everything in between, was off limits. Why anyone would want to touch that temperamental Frankenstein's monster was another matter entirely. He would book Scout in for a psych. eval. at the next opportunity.

The assorted men flinched back with a noise of sympathy as Pyro landed a particularly sweet blow. Medic sighed as he walked back to the infirmary to pick up his medi-gun. It was only the first day of their specially mandated ceasefire and already he couldn't get any peace. If there was anything left of Scout when Pyro was done he would strangle the boy himself.

By the time he'd made his way back to the central room the fight was over. Demoman had apparently taken pity on the youngster and managed to convince Pyro to let up. Given Demo's equally destructive tendencies it was no wonder he and Pyro had struck up a friendship based on creating as much mayhem as humanly possible. What Medic understood less was how the two of them always seemed to drag Sniper along for the ride. Sniper was the textbook definition of a loner, often choosing to sleep in his vermin-infested van rather than in the complex itself. Yet whenever there was some stupidity involving the other two he was always there, usually lounging in the background smirking. Maybe it was Demo's scrumpy, Medic mused to himself as he flicked the switch to power up the healing rays, that scheiße was certainly potent.

Scout wasn't too badly hurt. The other eight team members would all deny it until the world ended but they all had something of a soft-spot for the mouthy kid. Scout was the youngest by at least ten years and was the bratty little brother most of them had never had. Pyro had obviously pulled most of the punches as Scout had already pulled himself into a sitting position and was looking ready to start running his mouth. Or at least he was going to try; Medic would bet a pfennig to a mark that his cheek was broken.

Pyro was vibrating with badly contained psychosis even with Demo's soothing words and Medic felt his Hippocratic Oath pushing him to intervene. Sniper was being no help as usual, simply sprawled out on the sofa smoking with Engineer now there was no danger of getting sucked into the fight. Heavy was too busy checking Sascha in case Scout really did have a death wish. Spy had slithered off now there was no entertainment and Soldier had been conspicuously (and suspiciously) absent throughout this whole affair.

Sighing Medic knelt down next to Scout and shone a light into his eyes. Not even a concussion, Pyro _was_ in a good mood.

Scout glowered while Medic carried out his checks, "I coulda taken ya, ya chucklenut! I won't go so easy on ya next time!"

Thankfully Demo already had his arm slung around Pyro's shoulders and was able to stop Pyro's mad lunge for Scout. As Demo held on everyone in the room could hear the muffled obscenities pouring out from the filters of Pyro's mask.

Medic slapped Scout on the back of the head, muttering fiercely, "Nein, nein Dummkopf, keep your idiot mouth zhut for zwei seconds."

Scout subsided into sullen silence as the healing rays went to work fixing the damage. So what if he'd touched Pyro's stupid flamethrower? It wasn't like he'd broken it or nothing. It was just lying on the table in the rec room and no one was around. Bet it was that damn froggy Spy that'd tipped Pyro off he was messin' with it. Even his awesome speed hadn't helped much when he was caught red-handed torching some of Soldier's stupid little army men.

Sniper had wandered over to the offending weapon, resting in the ruined remains of the table that had been the first casualty of the morning. The Administrator would be pissed, that was the third bloody table this month, but Engineer would fix it up soon enough. Kneeling down he gave it a quick look over, without being stupid enough to lay a hand on it. Pyro wasn't looking, still too busy waving a fist at a whingeing Scout, but he hadn't had enough coffee yet to deal with Pyro's temper. The weapon was as tough as the maniac that'd built it, looks like the little pup was going to live to fight another day.

"It's alright Pyro mate, the little tyke ain't damaged it," Sniper spoke around a new cigarette that he was going to wait to light until he was well away from that petrol tank with a handle.

"Huddah huh?"

Interpreting this to mean 'are you sure?' Sniper nodded, jumping to one side as Demo released Pyro who practically bowled the man over on the way to hug the damn thing.

Turning away from the rather disturbing sight of a grown adult cuddling and cooing at a flamethrower Engineer focused his attention on the little guy. Five seconds in the Doc's magical rays and Scout was as good as new and would hopefully stop causing trouble for a little while. Days off were few and far between here and by God he wanted to enjoy them. Not that watching Pyro meltdown wasn't entertaining enough, but he had plans to work on that didn't involve being outta his workshop. To that end he was just lifting his ass off the couch when Soldier barrelled in dragging a reluctant spy behind him. Engineer calculated the odds of success if he made a bolt for it. Soldier had that queer expression on that meant he'd been coming up with nonsense to inflict on the rest of them. Clearly Sniper was having the same idea but with Heavy blocking the other door there was little chance of escape.

Soldier puffed up his chest, peering out at his assembled comrades from under his helmet. "Maggots! I do not know what has been going on here and I do not care. There are new boxes in the supply rooms with our names on and I want answers! Which one of you dirty communist hippies has been ordering surplus goods?"

Everyone else in the room merely shrugged, looking vaguely interested but not exactly the patriotic, paranoid furore that Soldier had been aiming for.

"I want a full investigation! We'll smoke out the sissy who thinks that the clothes on our backs and the food in our bellies aren't enough to conduct a war!"

Scout was about to say that was bang on the money but Medic pricked him in the thigh with a needle to get him to shut up. They'd all learned by now that Soldier would eventually run out of steam if he couldn't pinpoint an offender.

"I see none of you are going to own up! Well I'll find you, don't you worry about that!" he shouted, slamming his fist into his palm with pure American vigour.

"Do you know what is in ze boxes?" asked Spy, lounging against the wall with folded arms.

"I do not!"

"Of course not," Spy muttered under his breath, wondering for the millionth time what he'd done to deserve this hell, "Why don't we go look 'mm?"

"I don't know how they do things in Frogland, but that sort of attitude won't fly here! Now –"

Whatever culturally insensitive thing the Soldier was going to say next was mercifully cut off by the large screen on the wall humming into life. After a few moments of static the picture cleared into a view of the severe Administrator, with the one and only Saxton Hale standing at her left shoulder and the much more timid Miss Pauling hovering at her right.

Everyone tactfully ignored the gasp of wonder that came out of Sniper when faced with his hero.

"Good Afternoon REDs, I can see you've already taken advantage of having a day off," said the Administrator, looking around the carnage of the rec room with a raised eyebrow.

Saxton gave them all a thumbs up while they tried not to look abashed. Miss Pauling was already scribbling down the replacement items they were going to need.

"I trust our latest shipment has arrived?" on seeing them all nod she spoke loudly to cut Soldier off before he could get started ranting, "Good! I'll pass you over to Mr Hale so he can explain. Mr Hale?"

"No time to dally chaps! There's a corporate shindig that you all have to attend in two days time or so the pen pushers tell me! They also tell me that I need to wear a shirt so I'll be beating them to death very soon! I expect to see you all there and also for you to say I wasn't in the company car park between 6 and 7 o'clock on the 24th!" With a final shouted sentence Hale saluted the teams and bounded off leaving an irritated looking Administrator and a shell shocked Miss Pauling.

"Thank God for Bidwell is all I can say. Go fetch those boxes and bring them in here."

Heavy was dispatched and soon had the nine boxes piled up under the watchful eye of the screen.

"Right, in those boxes are the clothes you're to wear to this fancy do. We have all your measurements and preferences on file so you should find they fit perfectly. Heavy, we will be docking some of your pay to cover the extortionate cost of the tailor's time when he was making yours. Also Pyro, your dress has a full back and sleeves, last thing we need is to scare the investors away."

Pyro lovingly placed the flamethrower down and opened the box marked 'Pyrotechnician' ignoring the unusual silence from the rest of the team. Out of the box poured a beautiful ball gown in a deep shade of red, naturally. Pyro made a delighted noise, holding the dress against the flame-retardant suit and spinning around.

Medic glanced around at his comrades, rather enjoying the thoroughly stunned expressions on their faces. It was certainly the longest Scout had ever been quiet. Pyro was clearly waiting for an opinion on the dress and was starting to seem a bit upset that everyone was just staring.

Medic stepped forward under the pretence of taking a closer look, "It looks lovely liebchen, and no doubt you vill be zhe belle of the ball."

Pyro pressed a hand to the cheek of the gasmask in a gesture that left no doubt as to her femininity. Medic straightened up and turned the face the rest of their comrades, this was something he did not want to miss. If only he had a camera. Ahh well, he would just have to burn this into his memory.

Scout was pointing with wide eyes, only managing inarticulate noises in the back of his throat. Heavy was giving the dress a stern look, rubbing his chin with his hand as if still puzzling it out. Demoman had his bottle of scrumpy held up at eye level and was giving it a suspicious look. Engineer's wrench had dropped out of the man's slackened grip, his mouth hanging open. Sniper's glasses had slid down his nose while his hat was tipped right back after he'd shoved a hand into his hair; his cigarette clinging onto his lip for dear life. Even Spy, the master of everyone else's business, had staggered back onto one of the stools his legs unable to hold him.

"WHAT?" Soldier was the first to break the silence, pointing at Pyro with the shovel he'd pulled out as a reflex, "You put that dress down this instant mister!"

This last piece of idiocy, or perhaps denial, was enough the snap the rest of them back to reality. The incredulous stares turned for a moment to Soldier before going back to the Pyro and then the screen for an explanation.

Miss Pauling had her back turned to the screen, clearly caught in a giggle fit. Even the Administrator was smirking, "I get the feeling I've dropped a bombshell."

"You can sure as hell say that again lady!" Naturally even earth-shaking shock couldn't keep Scout down for long.

"How on earth did you people not figure it out?" the Administrator demanded, "Thank God we never hired any of you for your intelligence!"

Heavy scratched his head, "Leetle Pyro is leetle _girl_ Pyro?"

Pyro nodded, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Medic brought a fist to his mouth in a heroic effort to stop the mirth coming out.

The Administrator rolled her eyes, "How is that possible, she must shower at different times and must eat in other places how could you not – " she cut herself off, rubbing her head, "You're all idiots. Pyro's gender doesn't make any difference –"

"But he's a total psycho!" Scout managed to splutter.

"It's a sad day when being mentally unhinged precludes the possibility of being a woman. Don't be so stupid. Make sure you don't wreck those new clothes and if you're not on the transport in two days time you'll regret it. Goodbye."

The screen went black and another unnatural silence descended over the group. Pyro held up the dress against herself again, "Hud Huddah Hurf?"

Engineer sank to the floor to pick up his dropped wrench, remembering his good upbringing, "It looks mighty lovely Pyro" he said faintly.

"Don't say that shit! What the hell Pyro?"

Pyro simply shrugged and started spinning around with the dress again. There was a grin spreading over Heavy's face as he continued to process this information, "This means leetle Scout was beaten by _lady_!"

Scout's face turned thunderous as Heavy roared with laughter, slapping his knee and hooting to himself in Russian. Medic had to busy himself with opening his own box to hide his cackles; there was no need to totally emasculate the boy. Spy had managed to regain some of his composure and had come over to inspect the workmanship on the clothes.

Demoman's face had taken on an unhealthy pallor, "Pyro, lad – err lass, you know the joke with the nun and the whore, I didn't mean any of that you know!" he said frantically, horrified that he'd been telling filthy jokes in front of a lady. Pyro just laughed making the Demoman sit down with relief.

Sniper had also pulled himself together, so Pyro was a sheila, it didn't make any difference really and Pyro had always been a good friend. Still, he could do with a stiff drink and a long sit, Demo had the right idea.

Soldier puffed up to something like three times his normal size and then fainted clean away.

XXXXX

Later that evening in the mess hall the men were grouped around Pyro. Soldier had been revived with some smelling salts but obviously wasn't himself as he'd yet to start shouting again.

"So come on then, what d'ya look like?" Scout was hovering across the table, the seats next to Pyro taken up by Demoman and Sniper in a show of support. His anger at being beaten up by a supposed woman had given way to curiosity and he had his fingers crossed for a pin up.

"You knew didn't you?" Spy questioned Medic.

"Natürlich. I do all zhe physicals and haff all zhe medical details. Being a voman is hard to hide in zhat situation," Medic said, shrugging.

"I shoulda known!" All eyes turned to the Engineer who blushed when Pyro looked at him. "When I'd forgotten mah missus' birthday Pyro turned up with this woman's catalogue so I could get summin' in time. Well, hell, I was so relieved I didn't think nothin' of it at the time."

"Pyro is good fighter for woman. Has highest kill rates," said Heavy, glancing at the board that showed their totals. Pyro was always top, followed closely by Heavy and Soldier.

"Huddah Hud Hudd Huddah Hah!" Pyro gave them two thumbs up before reaching to pull down the zip of her suit.

All the men except Scout immediately averted their eyes with shocked stuttering. Scout's grin simply got wider until Demo kicked him hard in the shin under the table, "Och have ye no respect, ya wee shite?"

Scout was in for a disappointment. The woman that lurked under Pyro's suit wasn't exactly pin up material. She couldn't be called beautiful but perhaps maybe striking or handsome instead. A strong jaw with an ugly scar running down from the bottom of her cheek down her neck. A straight nose that had clearly been broken several times but set relatively right. Unnervingly bright blue eyes. All set under jet black hair pulled back into a French plait coming from the top of her head. Sat at her sides Sniper and Demo could see the terrible scar tissue spilling out from under her tank top and across the back of her arms and neck. It wasn't altogether surprising to see extensive burn damage on a Pyro but it was shocking none the less. As she pulled the front down and slid her gloves off they could see just how she carried that huge flamethrower around. With arms as muscled as that it was no wonder she'd asked for sleeves on her dress. There were a few more burns and scars down her arms but the worst of it was clearly on her back.

Seeing their stunned faces she grinned, a wild and unhinged grin that for some reason was oddly reassuring – this was definitely their mental Pyro.

Medic was the only one able to smile back, a rather fond expression crossing his face. Perhaps this was for the best. She would be able to stop hiding away when not encased in her ridiculous uniform. Living behind all that rubber and asbestos couldn't have been good for her. The rest of the men were frozen again. They'd better not make this difficult for her. Initially he'd been unsure of her place on the team when she'd arrived. It was nothing personal. To him a woman's place was at home rather than on the front line and he'd been all to ready to apply this belief to Pyro. He'd lodged his complaints with the Administrator who'd waved him off and told him that if he wanted to 'lose to those BLUs every damn day' then he would have to give her a chance. Given that her mental state had been described as 'unstable' he was fully expecting a nightmare. Her first day had been a nightmare. But not for them. With single minded determination and frankly terrifying vitriol she'd set about destroying anything that had the nerve to dress in blue. She wasn't crazy. Well, that was a lie, of course she was crazy, but she wasn't actually developmentally challenged or mentally ill. Once back in base she became totally docile and good fun to be around.

"Well?" Her voice was low, relatively deep for someone her size and carried a strong accent from the Deep South.

Scout was scowling at her and had leaned right in close for a good look. He wasn't impressed. She was at least mid-thirties if not older and was more a work horse than a pretty filly. Still, at least she was female. He was starting to worry about himself stuck in this base for so long with all these dudes.

"I mean, you'll do, I guess." He twisted his head away slightly to put his nose in the air. He didn't have time to blink before he'd been knocked out of his seat and onto the floor with a bleeding nose.

Pyro withdrew her fist from where she'd shot it out with a scowl. The table snickered while Medic merely sighed and congratulated himself for not bothering to put his medi-gun away. Sniper and Demoman shared something of a shell shocked look over her head before they both grinned. Same old Pyro.

Engineer helped Scout back into his seat with a disapproving look, "That's no way to speak to a lady son, imagine if your mamma had heard that, she'd tan your hide."

"Yeah, yeah I guess, sorry Pyro," Scout muttered sullenly.

Spy flicked the ash away from his cigarette with practised ease, "I cannot believe we 'ave been so stupid."

"I cannae believe ya pulled one over on tha' frog lass!" Demo slung an arm round her shoulders, originally he'd been drinking to get over the shock and now he was drinking to celebrate Pyro being a woman. That wasn't a great excuse, but hell, he'd take what he could get.

Spy scoffed but otherwise didn't respond. If the Demo knew how many of his dirty little secrets Spy knew he wouldn't be so quick to be such a boor.

Soldier had been being awful quiet but naturally he had to go and ruin a good thing. "I'll draw up your court martial papers, lady, and we can get a proper masculine MAN in here first thing."

He clearly wasn't expecting everyone else to tell him to shut up. "Oh so it's mutiny now? Two minutes in the presence of a woman and you're all lunatics!"

Medic rolled his eyes, "For goodness sake, you've been in her presence all zhis time, vhat exactly has changed?"

Soldier puffed up again, holding his finger up as if to make a point – the moment stretched and it became clear from the metaphorical smoke coming from under his hat that he didn't really have one. Pyro simply pulled out a cigarette and a battered, clearly well used lighter out of a pocket while keeping those unnatural eyes focused on the Soldier. Sniper rolled his from behind the safety of his aviators. Soldier deflated and everyone turned back to the table.

"Pyro being a lady is not ze most pressing issue at ze moment anyway," Spy noted, idly pulling out yet another cigarette – as if the rest of them hadn't noticed that he chain smoked when he was feeling uncomfortable.

"Wot is then mate?"

"Ze fact zat we have to attend a corporate ball when 'alf of you can barely function in relatively normal society in ze first place."

Sniper rubbed his stubble, "You're right there mate."

Scout rubbed his newly healed face, "Ah ya losers just have to follow my lead, I'll show ya how it's done."

The derisive look everyone sent his way did nothing to damper his swagger.

Heavy looked rather downcast, "I am not good at dancing. I will be laughed at."

Medic patted his arm, "No one vill dare Heavy, mein freund, no one vill dare."

Engineer rubbed the back of his neck self consciously, "I ain't too light on mah feet either."

Spy scoffed, "It's more ze socialising I'm worried about."

The team shared a worried look, it couldn't possibly go well.

XXXXX

R/R!


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter another dollar as they say. I've also gone back and edited the first chapter to get rid of most of the more heinous mistakes – that'll teach me to rush a chapter up because I'm going to the pub.**

**Any constructive criticism is very welcome at the minute; I'm struggling with the block. What they'll be wearing will be in the next chapter but this one does have a few laughs too. Hope you enjoy!**

**XXXXX**

"Listen up maggots!" barked Soldier, arranging the first of his slide boards emblazoned with the fateful title 'Operation Fancy-Pants'.

It was the next morning and the mercs were draped over the furniture in the rec room in various states of consciousness. Most were nursing mugs of strong coffee – Sniper's brew especially was well known for putting hairs on your chest, face and any other area of skin you cared to mention – the rest either snoozing or chain-smoking. Soldier, driven by duty, honour and the sort of steroids disallowed under the Geneva Convention, needed no such stimulants. He was ready to face the day, and to punch the day in the face should the day look at him funny.

"I don't think I need tell you men ... and non-man ... just how vital tomorrow night is to the war effort!" He peered around at his comrades to check, just in case he did in fact need to tell them.

Scout waved a wrapped hand, "Yeah, yeah corporate investors, suits, and wrinkly old bags who give us money for shit."

Spy glanced over at the boy splayed out on one of the recliners, his feet kicked up in the air and his head on the footrest, "Idiot," he muttered with a sneer.

"Yo, you got somethin' to say to me?"Scout somehow managed to square up despite being upside down.

"Oui, you are an idiot. Wizout ze funding we will be even deeper in ze shit than we are now. We barely have ze money for basics as it is. If you fuck zis up zen we will likely be out on ze streets!" Spy seethed, it was harder for him to keep his composure at the ludicrous times Soldier insisted everyone work at.

"Really? 'Cos I ain't ever heard of one of these here fundin' balls afore..." Engineer trailed off, suddenly aware of the burning stare Spy was giving him.

"Zey 'appen every five years and ze investors give our employers money for ze next five," replied Spy, a little mollified by the nervous look on his comrade's face.

"So ve must be very poor right now, yes?" Medic asked, "I vould not be surprised, ve haff not had proper painkillers or bandages delivered in veeks."

This wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

"Then what 'ave you been -?"

Medic gave Spy a significant look to say that it was probably for the best that they didn't know.

"So wot yer sayin' is that we need to go to this shindig and make nice so the rich blokes will give us five years worth a' dosh?" asked Sniper, doing his best to force the cornered animal expression off his face.

Spy had managed to restrain his temper and had returned to his practiced lounging pose, "Oui, exactement."

Soldier nodded proudly as he surveyed his squad. He would bet real American dollars that those hippies on the BLU team weren't as quick on the uptake as his glorious REDs. "And we will do the best damn job of socialising those cowardly dogs have ever seen!"

Spy had unfortunately been taking a drag when he heard this and lapsed into a small coughing fit as he tried to control his laughter.

Demoman risked letting some light aggravate his nightmarish hangover to glare blearily at the laughing Frenchman, "And just what is so bloody funny then, eh?"

Spy eventually managed to stop sputtering long enough to reply, "You people? 'Socialising'? Mon Dieu, it hardly bears zinking about!" On seeing Demoman's glare getting stronger Spy waved a hand and continued, "Take yourself for example, an alcoholic Scotsman wiz all ze tact and grace of a particularly backwards elephant – I cannot wait to zee your attempts at casual conversation."

Demoman glared harder and considered the effort it would take to go over there and smack some manners into that ratbag of a spook. It was tempting, but so was sitting here and trying to stop his brain chewing on itself. In the end not moving was the infinitely more attractive option so he merely settled for telling Spy to 'fook off' and covering his remaining eye with his hand.

"It will be tough but we will succeed! I have drawn up plans that will ensure victory on the field of corporate functions –" Here Soldier paused to dramatically toss the first slide away, revealing a detailed timetable on the card behind.

The rest of them immediately groaned in despair. Soldier's timetables were something of a Teufort legend. The only thing more anal than the activities scheduled for every minute was how ruthlessly he enforced them. Peace became a thing of unbelievable luxury when Soldier had drawn up a chart. Last time – after Soldier had decided that all of their past times weren't acceptable for fighting men – they'd had to resort to sedating him until he got himself distracted with some other harebrained scheme. Heavy had been particularly targeted for his knitting habit and no amount of reasoning could make Soldier see that its usefulness, especially given their upcoming transfer to Coldfront. Medic looked at the grave faces of his team-mates and thanked God that he hadn't thrown out the powerful horse tranquiliser last time he tidied the infirmary.

Taking their silence as one of awestruck appreciation rather than cold dread Soldier gestured for them all to come closer to see his plan in its full brilliance. Engineer was the first to move, recognising the need to humour Soldier until they worked out a plan of action. As he approached he tried to hide his reflex grimace on seeing just how long the next two days were fixing to be. He just prayed they'd all still be alive and relatively undamaged by the end of these shenanigans.

When they'd all arranged themselves within the appropriate viewing distance, Demoman slumped over Pyro and Engineer's shoulders for moral and actual physical support, Soldier launched into it. Occupied as he was with detailing the minutiae and occasionally slapping the card with a pointer rustled up from somewhere in the depths of the base, Soldier missed the various expressions of horror that were spreading over the faces of his comrades.

Conversation briefings. Vol au vent etiquette training. Alcohol awareness basics. Dance drills.

"And these are just for today! By tomorrow you people will have mastered these skills and be ready for advanced training tomorrow!" Soldier slammed a hand to his chest feeling either pride or an aortic aneurysm welling up in his chest as looked at his hard work.

"Mate, you takin' the piss?" said Sniper, after a long pause.

"Aye, I ne'er seen so much shite in mah life!" slurred Demoman, waving a finger in the vague direction of the easel and forcing his two supports to counter balance to take his shifting weight.

Soldier had never seen such insubordination! He couldn't comprehend why the company had stuck him with these shirkers, lay-abouts and closet hippies. He tapped on the card more forcefully, "You'll do as you're told maggots!"

Medic pushed his glasses up his nose with a sigh, what he was about to do was as hopeless as his dream for an unregulated medical practice but he had to at least try, "Soldier, vhile we all appreciate your help, I do not zhink we need all zhis. Zurely if we are to keep a low profile and do zhe minimum amount of talking we vill be ok."

"So, we gonna gag the tyke then or what?"

"Hey, screw you old man!"

Spy snickered to himself before remembering just how deep they had gotten themselves into this time. Rubbing a hand down his face as the bickering continued around him, he contemplated Soldier's crazy ideas. They couldn't hurt. Maybe. Just this once. After all, the law of averages meant that the man had to come up with something worthwhile eventually. Maybe this was it. These people had been awake for less than half an hour and already a small impromptu fistfight had broken out. Perhaps social training was their only hope of securing this funding. After all, he and Medic and possibly Sniper couldn't carry this off on their own.

"Gentlemen," he paused to allow them to stop hitting each other before he continued, "Perhaps we are being 'ard on Soldier's plans, non?"

Soldier sensed he had an ally, but wasn't quite sure why.

Ignoring the fact that the rest of them were staring at him with confused and betrayed expressions Spy continued, "Zis is not like ze usual ridiculousness zat idiot attempts to force on us. Look at yourselves, is zis 'ow you want zis team to be seen?"

Soldier smirked in victory as the rest of the team looked rather abashed. There was no denying they weren't exactly high society types. There wasn't much call for blowing people up or setting them on fire or building machines to do just those things in high society. Sniper had spent too long in the outback away from civilisation, Medic was far too keen on talking about highly illegal medicine and Heavy's English vocabulary comprised mostly of words that would get them thrown out of an oil rig never mind a fancy party. Scout's problem was just the opposite but with his hair trigger temper and serious lack of brain to mouth word filter he was just as dangerous.

Spy nodded as the sad idea that they would actually be agreeing to one of Soldier's plan to filter down. Soldier righted his hat from where Demoman had knocked it askew and looked at the clock. 0700 hours, time to work on those conversation skills.

XXXXX

"Non, non, 'eavy! When zese people ask for your opinion, you 'ave to lie! Zey do not want ze truth, ze want to be flattered." Spy had already gone through two packets of cigarettes this morning and wondered idly if perhaps the stress of this exercise would kill him.

"I am not good at lying. Lying is for coward babies." Heavy folded his arms with the finality of that statement.

Spy breathed in deeply, ignoring the blatant jab and trying to stop imagining lunging across the table butterfly knife in hand. Instead he turned to Pyro who was sitting next to Heavy working her hair into a braid again. She'd left it down this morning and almost had a chunk ripped out when it got caught up in the tussle earlier.

"Imagine I am ze investor, Pyro," clearing his throat he upped his voice a good octave and fluttered his eyelashes, "My dress is magnifique is it non?"

Pyro gave him a disturbed look, she found his talents at imitating the enemy to be scary enough, but played along as Medic had asked. "Ya look right swell ... uh ma'm."

Spy dropped his face into his hand, "Do you zink that for un moment you could forget zat you are from ze backwoods? And here I zought Engineer was bad enough."

The two insulted parties glared but with Soldier hovering over them they decided not to cause any more trouble. He'd threatened them all with picking up his bugle again if they didn't take this seriously.

In a heroic effort to salvage the awkward situation Medic piped up, "So what vould you say, Herr Spy?"

"Something positive but neutral, zo they cannot possibly take offense. 'It looks lovely. It is a lovely colour.' Something of zat nature."

"What if lady look fat?"

"You go wiz ze colour, you do not need to tell 'er what she really looks like." Spy was certain Heavy was being dumb on purpose. The man read Tolstoy for God's sake! At Spy hoped that was the case, or they were in more trouble than they realised.

Scout was leaning back in his chair, absently twiddling with his dog tags, an unusually thoughtful look on his face. "What if they start askin' us what we do? Like, do we say we waste fools all day?" he asked.

Once Spy was able to get over the shock of Scout having asked a sensible question he gave it some thought. On one hand the investors were bound to know just by looking at them that their day jobs weren't picking flowers and helping old ladies across the street. On the other people that rich tended to like their violence relegated to the thugs they employed – would they actually want to hear about it from said thugs?

Demoman took the opportunity to take a healthy few swigs out of a concealed bottle while Spy wasn't looking. If this was the nonsense he was being subjected to he sure as hell didn't have to take it soberly. If Sniper hadn't been having a casual nap, mostly hidden by his aviators, Demoman was sure he would have wanted some too. So he drank a little for his friend, no sense in letting good booze got to waste.

"If I am to be 'onest wiz you Scout," he was forced to stop as several unkind snorts interrupted him, "Oui, oui let us all 'ave a big laugh, I do not know why I bozer wiz you all. As I was saying, I do not know, say something like you defend ze company's interests or something along zose lines."

The group nodded to themselves before giving each other as supportive looks as they could muster.

They were so preoccupied that they all jumped far more than usual when Soldier banged his shovel against a bell, again salvaged from somewhere in the depths of the base, to announce the change of topic.

XXXXX

This was torture. Torture that even the worst of the dictators couldn't have devised. If Heavy hadn't been made out of girders and bear souls he might have cried. As it was he simply settled for giving the make-shift buffet table a longing look while sitting on his hands.

Demoman and Soldier had utilised their strange competence in the kitchen to prepare something that approximated the sort of posh food they could expect the next evening. Saying as most of their food came marinated in its own juices in a tin, this was a pretty good effort. One of the mess tables had been commandeered and covered with a sheet from the infirmary bed in lieu of a tablecloth. On top of Medic's best, sterile, starched material sat several heavy duty plastic plates with a creative variety of nibbles. A stack of paper plates had been discovered and were currently sitting at the side, under the watchful eye of Soldier and Spy. The theory was that the people on this base couldn't be trusted around food. This was a reasonably valid theory given the usual scramble leading into outright carnage at mess times. Having been denied breakfast thanks to their conversation training the mercs were feeling very hungry and more than a little fractious. Given these circumstances were probably as close as they were going to get to tomorrow's it was the perfect opportunity for this training.

Each of them had to take a plate and collect an appropriate amount of food without overfilling, underfilling or getting any foodstuffs on their sleeves. They were to do this at a sedate pace without upsetting the table and especially not knocking anything over. Spy had reminded them that they wouldn't be the only people getting something at any given time so under no circumstances were they to cut in line, rush anybody in front or cause a scene in any way. Heavy groaned internally, this was even worse than the stupid talking exercises.

Sniper was shunted to the front of the queue by mutual decision. As he approached he could feel himself getting nervous. Bloody hell, he thought, it's happened, Soldier's plans have actually sent me round the twist. Picking up a plate he did his damndest not to let it show, instead focusing on what looked the most edible. Behind him he could hear the others shuffling to the table all trying desperately to just get this over with as soon as possible.

Looking back on it Sniper wasn't quite sure of the series of events. There'd been an outraged roar from behind him somewhere, a crashing noise and then a brief blackout. Turns out he'd been hit in the back of the head with a jerry can that'd been fired off the table thanks to the power of leverage when Heavy fell on it. When he snapped back into consciousness Soldier was swelling up to a heretofore undiscovered size with rage and getting ready to launch in the mother of all rants. Spy had naturally dodged the worst of the mess and was clearly caught somewhere between anger and laughter tinged with hysteria. Pyro and Engineer had been right behind Sniper which explained why he'd been hit as the can had gone right over their heads. They and Demoman were literally covered in a mixture of food and drink – Demoman surreptitiously snacking on the closest pieces. Medic was doing his best to haul Heavy out of the wreckage of the table while Scout was actually collapsed with laughter, pounding a hand on the floor.

Looking at each other they all made a very sorry sight. Thankfully the clock chiming cut Soldier's rant off before it started. He and Demoman had spent so long in the kitchen that it was already time to move on. Sniper rubbed at his aching head as Pyro helped him up – this was just a nightmare.

XXXXX

Demoman didn't start the alcohol training off on the right foot. He didn't see anything wrong with spending his days in a peacefully alcoholic stupor and anyone who thought otherwise could fook right off. As such by the mid-afternoon session of these ridiculous exercises he was nicely toasted which wasn't exactly in the spirit of the thing. When two or three sheets to the wind Demoman was an easy going kind of guy, amiable even. He slapped the others on the back when he came in, laughed about the idiots putting them through this, and settled down peacefully. This lasted for at least twenty seconds until the fact that Spy and Soldier had raided his drinks cupboard for use in the demonstration filtered into his addled brain.

"Wha' in the hell are ye playin' at?" he roared, attempting to stand up and having to be helped by the people around him.

"Ahh as you can zee mon ami we 'ave taken ze liberty of using –"

"That's mah hooch! Put it back where ye found it ye fookin' shitebag!"

While Spy chuckled, he did so enjoy messing with this team, Sniper and Pyro managed to coerce Demoman into sitting down again. "The whole point of this is that we ain't supposed to drink it, mate!"

"Ye'd all better no or I'll set mah boot up yer arses so hard it'll be leather fer breakfast!"

Once the owner of said booze had been mollified Spy stepped forward after a nod from Soldier. He would think about the fact he was working with that oaf later on, when his psyche could manage it. "Sniper is correct, not something I'd ever zink to say normally but," he grinned, ignoring Sniper's sour mutter of 'wankah' in the background, "ze point 'ere is zat zere will be an open bar tomorrow night –"

"Holy Mary Mother o' God, it's gonna be alright lads! It's gonna be alright!" Demoman nearly wept with joy.

Said joy blinded him to the seriously unimpressed looks of Soldier and Spy. "Sit your drunk Scottish ass down, maggot! You are exactly the reason we are having this drill!"

"While it is usually Demoman we 'ave to watch ze rest of you can be just as bad when you 'ave 'ad a few, non?"

As the team wasn't allowed to drink on the clock, not that they always listened, the vast majority of the team only got drunk infrequently. Infrequently enough to challenge what Spy was saying with boos and jeers.

"Oh really?" asked Spy, his mouth twisting up into an all too familiar smirk that set all their hairs standing on end. What did he know? "Shall we start with you, Medic?"

Medic was startled but put on his game-face; surely anything he'd done couldn't be worse than the others. He was a physician with more than twenty years experience; he was a professional, a pillar of society –

"Was it or was it not you zat had ze nickname of what I believe translates into English as 'ze pants-less physician'?"

Medic blanched - zhe Schweinhund! While there was an attempt at solidarity between them, Scout wasn't able to stifle the giggle that bubbled out of him. The others did their best but the kid's enthusiasm had always been infectious. Amid the badly suppressed laughter Medic sunk into his seat - that had been a very long time ago! Heavy put a comforting hand on his shoulder but Medic could feel the chortles reverberating through him. Schweinhunds, the lot of them.

"Oui, I believe zat was due to several alcohol related incidents, non? Alzough, I do not know why you are laughing Sniper, ze Adelaide Times devoted a full two page spread to your new year, how shall I put zis, celebrations?"

Sniper had stopped laughing as soon as the words 'Adelaide Times' were mentioned. Those sons a' bitches at that paper had made him a laughing stock for weeks! Although he was fairly confident the rest of them didn't know the story they were more than happy to keep laughing at the horrified look on his face.

"If any of you get ze chance, I would take a look, the pictures are quite ... fascinating. Engineer, 'ow about telling ze rest of us about your first leave from ze oil fields? Ze time you ended up in a Texas prison charged wiz cattle rustling and inappropriate use of a 'armonica?"

"What the hell were ye dooin' wi' it laddie?" Demoman managed to gasp out.

Engineer simply muttered something about 'Froggy motherhubbards' and pulled his helmet down over his burning cheeks.

"Zo you zee, it would be for ze best if none of you drink tomorrow night, oui?" Spy looked around; satisfied his point had been made by illustrating with a few embarrassments. Those pictures of Sniper were something to behold indeed, where had he got that crocodile?

Though most were still chuckling they were eyeing the booze with a bit of fear now, after all, they didn't want Spy revealing anything more of their histories.

XXXXX

The next drill, set for after dinner, was strangely the thing Scout was looking forward to the most. Though he would strenuously deny any such thing, he was quite good at and enjoyed dancing. Mama Scout used to take him along to her dance classes when he was a kid and he'd just sort of fallen into it. 'Course when he got to high school that sorta shit was totally off limits to a stud like him but, sometimes, he missed it. He knew Spy knew how to dance, seen him taking BLU Scout's mama out dancing before, but he wasn't so sure on the rest of them. Heavy wasn't exactly the right shape and Engineer was pretty heavy on his feet too. Pyro was more valkyrie than ballerina and Soldier considered dancing to be a strictly hippy related activity.

Not to mention the fact that the gramophone that Engineer was currently setting up was older than most of them put together and the wailing, crackling noises coming out of it weren't really that helpful. Soldier was standing to one side of it and if the rest of them didn't miss their guess, he was looking a mite nervous about the whole situation.

Spy swept into the room and paused to survey the mood of the troops. Dinner had perked everyone up a bit but the sheer magnitude of what they were expected to manage tomorrow night was starting to set in. He and Soldier would have to gently walk them through this if they didn't want to deal with several stress-related meltdowns.

With a 'heck yes' Engineer set down the needle on the ancient record and a slow ballroom melody started to play. Spy sauntered out into the middle of the mess hall which had the most likely candidate for a dance floor. With all the tables and chairs pushed up against the walls it looked very much like a school dance and the anxious expressions of the people lined up against the walls did nothing to dispel this impression.

"Dancing is tres simple, oui? A few easy steps to learn and you zhould be able to muddle zhrough. Pyro, will you join me?"

Pyro, from her usual seat beside Sniper and Demoman, looked terrified. This wasn't helped by the two men giving her pitying looks. As if getting covered in food and not getting any booze wasn't bad enough, she thought as she slowly walked over to the smirking Spy, now she had to completely embarrass herself.

Spy rolled his eyes as she came over. Dressed in bright red coveralls and her rubber boots she wasn't exactly a picture of femininity, not to mention the cigarette jammed in the corner of her mouth. "Do not look zo down, mon cher, as a woman you will be asked to dance more often zan ze the rest of us."

She gave him a suspicious look. This may well just be a lie to get her to do something silly. As he hadn't known she was even a woman until the previous day he couldn't have any dirt on her like he did the rest of them. Still there was only one way to get this farce over with and took his proffered hand. He slid his hand around her waist and coaxed her feet into the proper position ignoring the way the other men tried not to feel awkward with the reminder that their former bro was now a bro-ette.

"Do not give me zat look, zere will be a lot of rich old men who are tres unhappy wiz their trophy wives there. It will be unpleasant but so long as you do not stand on zeir toes, like you are doing now, it will be fine."

Pyro jumped back, trying to control her anger and embarrassment, this wasn't so hard she supposed as her feet finally started following Spy's properly. At least she would just have to follow a partner's lead as she was doing now. Spy wasn't such a bad teacher either as he showed her a few simple spins. As the music ended Spy bowed and showed her how to dip in a slight curtsey. The others applauded; once one of them had taken the first hurdle it didn't look as hard as they'd feared.

"Ahh magnifique Pyro, you will be fine zo long as you count in your 'ead like zat. So long as you dance with zese men when zey ask they will probably leave you relatively alone."

"We'll make sure they do Pyro, don't ya worry," Engineer slapped his wrench into his palm. Sniper and Demoman nodded darkly, faces clouded over with anger at what the old bastards might try.

Even Heavy and Soldier looked irritated at the possibility of their only female being hassled. "I crush leetle man who upset leetle Pyro."

Spy, Medic and Pyro herself shared a look. Obviously alpha-male syndrome was coming out and making them stupid. After all, it wasn't like she would have any trouble dealing with these supposed molesters herself, hell she would be twice the man most of them were. But she got the feeling there wouldn't be any telling that to the rest of the team.

Spy decided to interrupt the posturing and draw their attention back to the dance lessons. Pyro had been the easier part, now how to teach the men who would have to lead. "It will not just be Pyro 'oo will be hassled by lecherous old people, zere are many old ladies sitting on vast fortunes zat we need and if you need to be charming and dance wiz ze woman, you will 'ave to do it! Soldier, would you care to join me?" On saying this Spy altered his whole posture into one that, despite his masculine frame, was undeniably feminine.

It was hard to tell because of his helmet but it looked as though Soldier was about to have an apoplexy. Realising that he couldn't enforce these tasks on his troops without completing them himself he slid forward across the floor with all the grace of rhino. He managed to bring his arms up into an approximation of how he was supposed to hold them but his hands were frozen into awkward claws and Spy had to take the initiative.

Grabbing the man's hand and forcing it onto his waist he reached for the other until the stance was correct. "Mon Dieu Soldier, zis is not 'ow I want to be spending my evening eizher, the faster we get zis over wiz ze better."

Predictably Soldier was not a great dancer. However the idea of improving to make the whole experience end seemed to spur him on immeasurably. Once the other men had seen how it was done Spy paired the rest of them up so he could watch how they were doing. Sniper and Pyro were probably the best, managing a decent turn about the floor and even giggling to each other. Soldier and Engineer were possibly the most awkward pairing Spy had ever seen. Their steps were alright but there could not possibly be anymore distance between their bodies and both were blushing so hard under their helmets Spy was worried one of them might faint. Heavy and Medic weren't much better. While not as seemingly disgusted by the presence of the other, Heavy was really struggling. His frame and stubby legs were not made for sweeping around a dance floor and while Medic had obviously done this before he was being hampered by having to avoiding Heavy's clumping footsteps.

Scout was the real surprise for Spy and then everyone else when they stopped mid-dance to watch. Despite being lumbered with Demoman, who it must be said was filled with drunken enthusiasm, Scout was almost as good as Spy. His eyes were half closed and he was clearly lost in the dance, a small grin spread over his face. With an expert twirl he finished perfectly on the beat, opening his eyes to see everyone staring at him with wide eyes. Sniper and Pyro were closest, holding each other close with the shock of it, both of their cigarettes burnt down almost to the end. Medic hadn't really noticed that Heavy was standing on his foot despite the massive weight of the big man. Soldier and Engineer had separated as soon as they'd seen Spy wasn't watching anymore. Spy himself was standing giving him an impressed look.

Scout's face slowly reddened, a horrified look spreading over his face as he realised he'd exposed himself. As a dancer. They'd never let him live this down. Demoman winked as convincingly as he could with just one eye. With a strangled yelp he leapt away from the Scot as if he was on fire.

The minute stretched until Spy couldn't take it anymore, "Why Scout, you never zaid you were zuch a professional..."

"Screw you guys!" Scout stormed out of the room, the vague idea of heading outside to smack some balls into BLU's base forming in his mind so that he could get away from the humiliation.

The rest of the team had the good decency to wait until he had slammed the door shut behind him to roar with laughter. This ball was certainly teaching them a few things.

XXXXX

R/R


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I seem to have gone all soft over these guys! Scary amounts of friendship building occurring ahead so those with 'gooey-love mush sensitivity' should keep a sick bag handy. The third section is just gratuitous clothing pornography (after all, there's nothing better on a man than a well-fitting suit!) so expect to be a bit bored by it! I hope this lives up to your expectations AspiringOutcast! Thanks so much to those who review; you really keep my enthusiasm for this up!**

**Should just be another chapter and an epilogue to go but I suspect these are the characters I'll stick with for any future TF2 fics, so if you have any thoughts on where to go after this, drop me a line!**

**Enjoy!**

XXXXX

The next day the team took a unanimous decision not to engage in any more ridiculous exercises by staying in bed until nearly midday. There was an unspoken rule within the base that if you weren't invited in, you couldn't go into anyone else's room. Even Spy respected this rule so that he could keep the oafs he was living with out of his precious belongings. Soldier had gone round the rooms, carrying the card with planned activities and blasting a few refrains on his bugle, but to no avail. Even Sniper had stayed in his little used room on base so he wouldn't have to deal with Soldier messing with his van. When they all eventually surfaced they were feeling much happier after a decent amount of sleep and almost ready to take on the ball that evening.

"Well, at least one of us isn't gonna have a problem, eh son?" Engineer wiggled his eyebrows over the top of his mug at Scout.

The young man hadn't come back in for hours after giving himself away the previous night and judging by the flush all up his neck and cheeks he was still feeling mighty sensitive about the whole matter.

However the boy was nothing if not resilient, "Yeah well at least I ain't banned from the farm chucklenut!" he snapped, waving his fork in Engineer's direction.

Engineer took his medicine like a man as the table exploded into guffaws around him. "Yeah I guess I deserved that."

Spy chuckled, it was always gratifying to see his information being put to use, "I must zay I am more impressed wiz you all zan I expected to be. Yesterday was not a total disaster."

"Why do I get the feelin' that ain't the end of that sentence, mate?" Sniper asked, giving Spy a hard look.

"Why zo zuzpicious mon ami? But az you mention it, it can 'ardly be zaid zat yesterday was a total success, non?"

Sniper tipped his hat forward to rub the lump on the back of his head; he hadn't bothered Medic about it at the time and now he was wishing he had, "You can say that again, mate."

"We did not do bad. Tonight will be success, yes?" Heavy slammed a fist on the table, making all the crockery jump into the air.

The determination in his voice made the rest of them grin at each other, hell yeah.

Soldier drained his cup and threw it down, "Your attitude makes me proud private!"

He shoved his fist into the air above the table. Heavy laughed aloud and slapped his hand down on top.

"Och at least we'll aw gae doon together!" Demoman chuckled as he added his hand on top.

Pyro punched her other fist in the air as she put hers on the pile, looking weirdly small without her reinforced rubber gloves.

Engineer grinned widely at the rest of them, "Well hell, when ya'll put it that way!"

Sniper only shook his head, an oddly fond feeling creeping over him. Bloody wusses, he thought as he joined them.

"Hey ya'd better have washed ya hands pal!" Scout shouted as he shoved his wrapped hand down on top of Sniper's.

"I agree with zhe boy, Herr Sniper," said Medic, giving Sniper a stern look as he added his own.

That only left Spy who was giving this unusual display of support and camaraderie a look of bemusement. Despite not all them being men they were all manly as hell, and this sort of thing was quite out of Spy's experience. Normally he wasn't included in these things given the nature of his job as a multi-faced snake in the grass.

"Private you had better put your work-shy little girl hand into this or I will personally kick you all the way back to your amphibious mother!"

Rolling his eyes, but secretly touched at the acceptance of his fellows, he delicately placed his Italian leather gloves on top of Medic's rubber ones.

The team shared determined grins in the close quarters before pulling all their hands down and throwing them up with a 'HOOAH!'

XXXXX

The only problem was that by late afternoon the optimism had worn off and there were now eight very anxious mercs attempting to make themselves presentable for the evening. All the doors along the corridor of the sleeping wing had been shut for some time although plenty of muffled cursing was slipping out from under them.

The simple fact of the matter was that they, excluding Spy and Medic, never had any real reason to dress up nicely. What good were suits and ties, dresses and expensive shoes when they were just going to get covered in oil, grease, blood and numerous other less savoury fluids? The materials they all wore on a day to day basis were designed to be run around in, knelt in, fight in and even get blown up in. They'd also spent many a long evening listening to Spy bemoaning, at length, about how much it cost to have Italian suits repaired or remade.

Medic, as used to being nicely dressed as Spy but much less fussy than the Frenchman, was taking his time to return to his quarters. He wouldn't need as long as his colleagues to don his evening finery. Along the corridor he paused by each person's door to check they weren't getting themselves into any difficulties.

Past the door emblazoned with an undetonated sticky bomb stuck into the wood Medic could hear Demoman singing a few refrains of Flower of Scotland in his deep tenor voice, interspersed with calling something 'ya wee bastid' every few seconds. Next door Scout was running his mouth despite being on his own, using a few words his mama would certainly not have approved of. A crashing noise from inside had him pausing but although the volume of the swearing increased, Scout seemed to be alright. Across the hall he could hear Pyro muttering darkly to herself when there was suddenly a pinging noise and an aggravated shout of 'Goddamnit!' that Medic would bet was caused by uncooperative suspenders. Next to her room was a door with the overflow of tools from inside stacked around it – inside Engineer was whistling happily to himself, apparently having a better time than most. There was a lot of growling in Russian coming from Heavy's room, punctuated with occasional bursts of laughter as the man claimed victory over the various articles of clothing. Sniper's room was completely silent as Medic expected, not even sure that the man hadn't chosen to retreat to his van to change. Spy had claimed the record player from the previous day and faint strains of some French ballad was seeping out from his room. Medic only just resisted the urge to press his ear up against the wood of Soldier's door – it was quite clear the man was giving himself a lecture on how important this evening was and how he wasn't going to dishonour himself and the team. It was quite touching, thought Medic, as he finally made his way to his own room.

Opening his own box he grinned in delight as the beautiful suit emerged. So what if the team was going to go down in flames this evening? At least they would look stylish doing it.

XXXXX

After that the time seemed to fly by. They'd all arranged to meet a half hour before the transport was due to leave to check each other out, sympathise and support each other and maybe fit in a couple of shots of Dutch courage.

Aside from Spy and Medic it couldn't be said that any of them looked comfortable in their evening wear. All of them were a bit more high velocity than high society. Clinging fabrics, restricted movement and nowhere to secrete any weapons were the main complaints. However as they all eyed one another up, it had to be said, they did look pretty good.

Spy was immaculate, as always. His traditional pinstripes had been traded in for a plain steel grey that reflected off his light eyes perfectly. A bowtie of the same colour replaced his usual over the crisp white shirt. The waistcoat underneath gave body to his slim frame and mother of pearl and silver cufflinks finished his ensemble. While he grumbled under their scrutiny that his dress could hardly be considered as exciting as he always wore a suit, the rest gaped at the fact his mask was missing.

They could finally settle the wager they'd all had on just what was lurking under that balaclava. Engineer had said the smart money was on balding, Sniper had gone for a massive scar that would make him too recognisable and Demoman had gone for drunken tattoo mistake. Turns out Heavy had trumped them all by producing a black and white photo of some smarmy French actor and saying Spy would be similar. Much to Engineer's annoyance Spy had a full head of wavy, dark hair, tonight expertly coiffed into a timelessly elegant style. Although he had obviously shaved recently his jaw was dark with what appeared to be a permanent five o'clock shadow under his stern Roman nose. Thick yet sculpted eyebrows gave his face a much more refined look that was completely lost under the material day-to-day. He even had a pierced ear, a single diamond stud winking at them in the light.

"Ya couldn'ta just been bald could ya?" huffed Engineer as he watched Heavy smirking in victory.

Spy merely wiped some invisible lint from his sleeve and gave them all a smirk of his own. Pyro thought he was very handsome if a little well-groomed for her tastes, and he winked at her making her scowl at her feet to avoid blushing.

While Heavy was desperate to celebrate his winning of the not insubstantial pot he wisely decided to rub it in later – when he was more able to move. It was no wonder the Administrator had taken some money out of Heavy's wages to pay the tailor – the suit was a work of art. The double-breasted style in carbon black pulled in his waist to accentuate his broad shoulders and produce a svelte figure. The high waist on the trousers gave the effect of lengthening his short legs to balance his unusual proportions. A deep red bowtie was tied around a wing collar that flattered and didn't pinch Heavy's thickset neck. A similarly coloured handkerchief stuck out of his breast pocket, clearly arranged by Medic as it was in the same style as the doctor's. Pointed patent leather shoes, finished to a brilliant shine, completed the look. Although Heavy was having trouble with scuffing them along the ground as he did with his steel-capped work boots. While he didn't have any hair to style like Spy he was shaved and thoroughly presentable.

"I must zay Heavy, mein Freund, zhey haff outdone themselves with zat suit!" Medic smiled, watching fondly as Heavy twiddled his fingers and finally, encouraged by the others, did a small spin on the spot to show off the finer details.

"I feel handsome. I take Pyro to ball as I am handsomest!" Heavy winked at Pyro who smiled but was still holding the sides of her dress anxiously.

The hem very nearly trailed on the ground despite the extra inches afforded to her by her arch-strapped court heels. Similarly to Heavy the design of Pyro's dress was to conceal her less flattering attributes and accentuate the positives. The lace sleeves and back covered her burns as well as her wiry biceps. A hidden corset cinched in her waist to give her an approximation of an hourglass shape while the full skirt fell from the hips to avoid emphasising her thick thighs. The Administrator had even included a ruby choker and drop earrings to match the lustrous silk's colour. Spy had done wonders with her admittedly somewhat ratty hair, sweeping it up into a perfect chignon at the back of her head. He'd done an even better job with her makeup - at the cost of her doing his chores for the next month - evening out her skin tone and managing to reduce the visibility of the deep scar on her cheek and neck. Under her arm she had a small clutch purse that Spy had put spare make-up in for later and taken out the flick-knife she'd put in.

"Well I don't rightly know Heavy, I'd say Scout's a damn sight prettier than me tonight," she replied, anxious to have the focus taken off her.

Scout seemed to realise this and only lazily flipped her the bird in response. In complete contrast to her clothes, his had been designed to add bulk to his lean frame. Strangely the matte black three-piece suit made him look older, or perhaps more sophisticated. Or rather it would, if he didn't have the jacket undone with his hands shoved in the pockets, although this did have the effect of showing off the deep red silk lining on the jacket. The buttons on the jacket and waistcoat were silver, polished to a high shine that stood out vividly against the dark fabric. It showed off his long legs and the subtly padded shoulders gave him a stronger silhouette. His black bowtie was hanging loose around his neck as he hadn't known how to do it and Medic had so far been busy fixing up Heavy's. He'd even gelled his hair, giving himself a strong parting on the right side of his head.

"Mon Dieu Scout, if you ztop slouching like zat one might almost mistake you for a young gentleman," Spy was fiddling with his large camera in preparation for recording the evening so far. He'd send a copy along to Scout's mother, he was sure she would love to see her little tearaway all grown up. Even if he had outright refused to wear the red flower in his lapel for fear of accidentally becoming someone's blind date.

"That's for sure son, bet ya none o' ya little friends from back home got such fancy duds!" laughed Engineer, knowing full well what his folks back home would say if they could see their favourite grease monkey all dolled up.

With Pyro towering in unnecessary heels Engineer had been reduced to the shortest member of the team. Naturally the most glaring change was the lack of his ever-present hard hat and goggles combo revealing a sensible buzz-cut and his bright blue eyes. His suit was single-breasted in the same manner as Spy's but in a warm charcoal grey that contrasted perfectly against his tanned skin. Unlike the other men he wasn't wearing a bowtie but a red cravat pinned in place with a shining gold pin. Although he'd been banned from wearing any form of cowboy boots the Administrator had allowed him to wear black patent leather boots that gave the subtle impression of lengthening his legs when combined with the crease in his suit trousers. He was just as muscled as Soldier but seemed a lot narrower without all the pockets and gear strapped onto him. The Administrator had also realised that his metal hand was probably not the sort of thing investors wanted to be exposed to. To that end he wore a black velvet glove that had been padded on the inside to give his right hand a more human shape. Out of all them he looked the most relaxed and optimistic about the night ahead, rocking back on his heels and complimenting the rest of them.

"This is still war maggot! I don't want to see you enjoying yourself! I want to see you working!"

Knowing Soldier was simply trying to reassert his authority in a sphere in which he had no experience, Engineer simply nodded, "Sure thing, Solly. Gotta say my friend, you ain't looking too sorry yourself."

"Yes, well, that is..." Soldier trailed off, tugging at his tie and fervently wishing he'd been allowed to wear his helmet.

Without it the sheer manliness of his chin almost overpowered the rest of his head. His buzzcut was somehow even _more_ sensible than the Engineer's and he certainly didn't have any piercings. His black, crushed velvet evening suit seemed to be straining over the muscles in his back. It was especially bad when he thrust his arm out to wave his fist at his troops. This, reflected the rest of them, was probably intentional on the Administrator's part in attempt to stop him doing just that to any of the investors. For a man who spent his entire life in uniform it was a refreshing change and his outfit, especially the white shirt, suited him extremely well. Unlike the others his red tie was long, tied in an expert Windsor knot that drew the eye instantly away from his chin and down to his broad torso. Judging by the way he couldn't keep still the lack of accessories, such as grenades and his shovel, were making him anxious.

He kept casting envious looks towards Demoman who was busying himself with the contents of his sporran. Demoman wasn't exactly known for taking a lot of care over his appearance. He didn't see the point as the vast majority of his time was taken up with being in combat or being totally blootered. Provide him with an expertly tailored kilt suit however, and it was like he was a new man. His woolly black hair was combed and controlled; Spy would have put money on the use of some kind of mousse. His empty eye socket was covered by a shaped, black velvet patch with silver trim. The silver buttons on the jet black kilt-jacket gleamed while the collar of his shirt was sharply starched. His kilt was a red based tartan, shot through with green and dark navy, falling to just above his knees where in the corner was pinned a silver kilt-pin. His bowtie was of the same tartan, contrasting starkly with the shirt underneath. Thick white kilt socks stood out against his dark skin above polished kilt shoes with their complicated knotting system. A sgian dubh topped with a ruby handle glinted from its place tucked into the top of his right sock. A luxurious badger hair sporran with furred tassels hung from his waist. It was this that was taking his attention as, similarly to Pyro, he couldn't decide whether to sacrifice his flick-knife for another small hip-flask.

"What dae yoo think Ah sh –" his question was cut off by Soldier snatching the knife out of his hand and throwing it onto the rec room sofa with a scowl.

Rather than being angry at this turn of events Demoman simply smiled happily and shoved the hipflask into the sporran, "Ah knew ye'd come through fer me Solly."

Sniper rolled his eyes as the two men started bickering, wishing that he still had his shades on to hide the action. Engineer caught this and winked, causing him to laugh around the last minute, morale boosting cigarette he was just lighting.

"Ach Herr Sniper, do not get ash on your clothes," Medic tutted from where he was standing trying to get Scout to keep still for two seconds so he could fix the boy's tie.

Sniper grunted in acknowledgement, holding his cigarette out to the side rather than over his chest. It would be a shame to ruin these posh clothes before the evening had even begun. He'd barely looked at himself in the mirror in his room before coming out but he was struck by how a little bit of cleaning and polishing could really take the years off a man. He'd had a proper shave and slicked back his hair away from his face although it was already forming into a small pompadour at the front. His suit was similar to Scout's in that it was cut to provide him with some extra bulk, and was cut like Soldier's to stop him slouching as much. The trousers sat lower than the rest to balance his long legs out against his slightly shorter torso. He wasn't sure the dark grey suited him as much as Engineer but it did make his skin seem brighter and less like he'd pickled it in the sun. He might get Medic to redo his tie, it was the same as Soldier's but he wasn't sure it looked as good. At least he'd discovered an inside pocket in the jacket where he could stash a couple of cigarettes for emergencies. With Pyro there he wouldn't need to worry about a lighter. The only downside was that his watch didn't really go and so he'd been forced into wearing a pocket watch on a silver chain fitted to his waistcoat. He felt like his granddad. Still though, it was probably the best he'd looked in years, especially with the suit making him stand to his full height, and he was going to enjoy it. Maybe get Spy to send a picture to his mum too.

Medic had finally managed to pin Scout down long enough to tie his bowtie for him. Honestly, what were they teaching young boys these days if tying ties wasn't on the curriculum? When he'd been a boy, good presentation was something drilled into you from a young age. Given that he always wore a shirt and tie, even on the battlefield, he wasn't finding this exercise half as stressful as some other members of the team. It was also something of a relief to not be throwing on his medical coat and rubber gloves over the top. He'd always felt the white waistcoat and black suit combination was definitely among the classier evening wear options. The black bowtie nestled under a wing-collar and above the studs he'd preferred to buttons in his shirt. The Administrator really did know a scary amount of information about them. His pants were perfectly creased and fell in such a flattering manner Medic wondered if he would be allowed to keep them once this farce was over. If he'd considered himself a military man he'd have asked for a red stripe down the sides, now that was a classic look. He'd gelled his hair, creating a slight wave that he seemed to remember was fashionable in this part of the world. All in all he was feeling much more relaxed about the situation when in such finery, looking the part was half the battle after all.

A clock on the wall chimed softly reminding them they only had ten minutes to get to the transport. Although the idea filled them with a sense of dread it was nothing compared to the thought of what the Administrator might do to them if they didn't turn up. Spy finally finished fiddling with the tripod and gestured for them all to gather together for a picture.

"If zis night goes badly, I want evidence of us looking respectable, oui? To 'elp zhow it wasn't necessarily our fault," he spoke to quieten down Soldier who looked like he was going to complain about something as sissy as a group photograph.

Heavy moved to the middle of the back of the group, slapping a hand down on the shoulder of Medic next to him and an arm around Pyro's shoulders. Sniper stood next to Pyro, making sure not to stand on her dress, with his arm resting across the back of Scout's shoulders. Engineer stepped in next to Medic while Soldier stood next to him trying to work out the most heroic pose he could manage in a tight suit. Demoman threw an arm around Soldier and told him to 'weesht' when the man complained.

Setting the timer on the camera Spy slithered over to Scout and stood up straight, "Nice zmiles comrades, zhis may well end up being used in ze law courts!"

The camera flashed as the team smiled their hardest, trying to look like upstanding citizens rather than the crazed mercenaries they were. All would later deny being the one to hang an enlarged version of the finished product in pride of place on the wall of the rec-room.

Looking at the time Spy began hassling them out of the door towards the transport. Every day he watched his team-mates as they ran out the doors to do battle with the BLUs. The vision in front of him now was some kind of bizarro-version of the normal routine. Instead of Scout disappearing into the distance with fire at his heels he was walking sedately, almost sticking to the shadow of Medic who was striding ahead confidently rather than hanging back to protect the rest. Similarly Pyro, who was usually hot on the trail of their fastest member, was taking incredibly measured steps clinging onto the arm of Heavy to stop her heels slipping between the holes in the grated floor. Rather than disappearing early on and only reappearing when the battle was won or lost, Sniper was walking alongside Demoman the two of them seemingly drawing a sort of confidence from the other. Soldier and Engineer were keeping pace slightly behind Medic and Scout rather than being completely separated as they were during battle. Giving their backs a private smile Spy shut the door behind them and, instead of immediately cloaking to slip away, caught up to Pyro and Heavy, walking in the midst of them like he belonged.

XXXXX

The train journey was unusually quiet, despite Demoman's best efforts to get a sing-along going, with all the team wrapped up in their own worries. Being actually on the way to the ball had made their fate very immediate – no backing out now. The train compartment was quite small, but with padded seats and actual windows. Normally when the mercs took the train they were shoved into the baggage compartment with their weapons. They were all crammed in awkwardly, doing their best not to crease their clothes before they even arrived. Soon the soft clack-clacking of the wheels started to slow and the team shared something of a panicked look. Heavy wasn't able to fit on the 'tiny baby seats' and so was the first to reach the window from where he'd been standing braced against the wall.

Scout buried his face in his hands, leaning practically into Medic's lap, "Tell me what ya see, I can't bear ta look," he mumbled.

Heavy's face was grave when he turned back round, behind him they could see a riot of lights and with the doors opening could hear the swell of conversation and music.

"Is very fancy party."

XXXXX

R/R!


	4. Chapter 4

**Creativity, why do you always abandon me right before the climax to a story? I hate you. Still, this is finally written and, apart from an epilogue, ends this story quite nicely. A few notes: Solly and Engie are good together but in this story they are straight. The investors are just meant to be faceless nasties so don't expect any deep characterisation. Saxton Hale is badass. Thus concludes the notes. **

**If anyone can draw, or if you know of anyone who can, please I beg you to draw the photo from the last chapter. My personal drawing ability stalled around the age of five.**

**Enjoy!**

XXXXX

The ball was taking place in a hotel so fancy the mercenaries were sure they'd been on the transport longer than they'd realised. After all, the classiest place anywhere near the Badlands was the gas station. The building was huge, white and fronted with classical Greco-Roman architecture. A massive fountain stood in the front courtyard, a whole menagerie of mythical animals gushing water over the white marble. Snaking around it and up the long staircase to the front door was a plush red carpet. Huge spotlights lit up the night sky in varying patterns and every so often there'd be a crackle of fireworks exploding. A variety of the cream of society was milling up the stairs by-passing the huge bouncers protecting the doorway. It was like they'd been transported into Hollywood.

"Well, have a great time guys, see ya tomorrow!" Scout immediately span on his heel and marched back into the train.

Or rather, he would have if Engineer and Soldier hadn't grabbed an arm each and practically held him off the ground. Heavy looked incredibly nervous but it was nothing on Sniper who looked as though he would gnaw his own arm off to get away from this. Even Medic and Spy looked nauseous at the task ahead of them.

After a moment Spy seemed to gather himself, "Well, comrades, to battle."

He turned to look at them and saw that his words had not had the energising effect he had hoped. This was almost ludicrous; they were all rough and tumble hired killers. What did a fancy ball matter when these people had lived on the very edge of survival?

"Mes amis, I 'ave faith in you all. We will go in zere, we will ztick together and we will zucceed, I know it! 'Once more into ze breech dear friends' and all zat."

Soldier was never one to shy away from a challenge. Being rejected from the army on the poxy grounds of mental instability hadn't stopped him showing Europe just who was boss and he wasn't going to let a complete lack of experience or etiquette stop him now! Keeping a firm grip on Scout's arm he slapped Spy on the shoulder, squared his shoulders and marched towards the start of the red carpet. The rest of the team also seemed spurred by Spy's inspirational speech and, after a shared look, followed Soldier.

The walk up to the stairs felt like a walk to the gallows. They hadn't expected to fit in among the upper classes but they hadn't expected to stick out quite so much either. All the attention they were attracting wasn't exactly appreciated either. People had actually stopped dead in their tracks to stare at the group. One guest had even spilled his champagne all over his date in his shock at seeing them. Scout felt it the hardest, being so young, and struggled to keep a mortified blush from making his ears bright red. Then the whispering started. It swelled up all around them as the initial shock died down. For all their finery the art of subtlety had completely passed these people by and none of them made any attempt to conceal their frantic gossiping.

Spy pressed a stern hand into Scout's back as the man paused, looking around to try and pinpoint a particular offender in the crowds of people staring at them, "Do not give zem ze satisfaction, mon ami, keep walking."

Looking around from his position in the middle of the group he judged the reactions of his team-mates. Soldier and Pyro clearly had their teeth gritted but were walking with their heads held high and seemingly uncaring of the judgements being passed their way. Sniper and Engineer were looking at the ground, trying to block out the noise from around them by pretending not to hear it. Heavy was giving the assembled crowds a very solemn look, as if to make them feel bad for carrying on this fashion. Demoman was bringing up the rear, his hands resting on his sporran and whistling a tune with a big smile on his face. Being a black, Scottish, Cyclops had given him a pretty damn thick skin when it came to situations like this and Spy was glad of the uplifting effect it was having on the team.

Reaching the top of the steps they had a moment of panic as they suddenly realised they didn't have any tickets or passes like the other guests seemed to be holding. The bouncers were already giving them incredibly suspicious looks as they approached, moving forward from their posts ready to deal with any trouble. As if the overfed mall-cops would be any use against the nine of them should they decide to actually _cause_ any trouble, but Spy felt that was beside the point. None of them wanted to throw down in these clothes anyway. Deciding his talents would be better used up front instead of letting Soldier or Scout run their giant mouths he started moving past the two of them.

However their bacon was saved without any confrontation by Saxton Hale bounding out of the doorway and catching sight of them.

"TEAM!" He roared, the people around him cringing away from the sheer volume. He was quite a sight to behold, his Australia shaped chest-hair poking through his slightly opened shirt and his bountiful moustache fully waxed.

He barrelled down to them, making the bouncers leap out of the way of his mad charge. On reaching them he began shaking hands. Of course, his idea of shaking hands was to forcibly grab the hand of the nearest person, Scout at first, and practically tear their arm off with vigorous movement. Everyone thought Sniper was going to either faint or scream like a little girl judging by his face on being greeted by (and actually touching!) his hero. On reaching Pyro he grabbed her hand to dip her backwards in order to plant a big hairy Australian smooch on her before standing her back up too flustered to react. Thankfully he misinterpreted Heavy's fist coming down to bash him in the head as the Russian going for a handshake, thus averting another disaster before it could begin.

"You all look great! Just go on in!" He assured them, not seeming to notice the complete shell-shock that his presence inflicted on them, or the way Pyro was surreptitiously trying to wipe off all the moustache wax without spoiling her lipstick any further. Nodding to them in an oddly paternal way that earned him a few uncomfortable looks from the team, he sprang off down the stairs to meet and greet anyone else who took his fancy.

With the blessing of the insane Australian the crowd seemed less openly hostile, instead reverting to a less outraged judgement on the appearance and behaviour of the mercenaries. Spy looped Pyro's arm through his and guided her inside when he noticed the shock was wearing off and anger was taking its place. Sniper followed them glaring at the ground. The rest of the team was pretty sure Sniper had never been as jealous of someone as he was of Pyro right now. The man's obsession with that mad Australian was legendary.

The red carpet led them into a huge ballroom that stopped them all dead as soon as they got inside. The word 'opulence' didn't quite cover it, leaving Spy to substitute 'hideous' in its place. Compared to the Greco-Roman frontage of the building the inside had come forward a couple of thousand years and was so baroque it was almost painful. Gilt. Gilt everywhere. From the ceiling to the wall panels and even running down some of the columns. In between all the gold the walls were a dark red and the ceiling a bright white, moulded plaster. There were huge curtains covering the massively ornate stained-glass windows and the chandelier that hung suspended above the dance floor would have cost all their pay-checks put together. It was impressively awful. The rest of the team just looked impressed. Spy sighed, all their taste was in their mouths.

The band was just starting to set up so the other guests were milling around the tables positioned around the outside of the open dance floor. Along the side wall from the door was a massive buffet table that as of yet only had glasses of champagne standing along it. Noticing that the tables had name-cards (white paper with gold writing, naturally) Spy ushered them along the wall to find theirs, trying to keep them out of the spotlight as much as possible. In close quarters the disgusted looks they were earning from the stuck up guests was even worse and Spy just prayed that social embarrassment would stop them from taking matters into their own hands.

Their table, given the fact that fate had obviously been conspiring against them since they decided to get up two mornings ago, was right at the front of the room next to the band and the podium for delivering speeches. Spy all but forced them into their seats and promised to return with some champagne to calm their nerves.

Scout practically fell out of his seat he leant so far over the table to talk to them all, gesturing for the rest of them to come into a morale boosting huddle, "This sucks! I mean sucks hard, ya know?"

"Och laddie, it's nae so bad, ye gotta _enjoy_ makin' these overfed buzzards squawk," Demoman turned to grin at Scout from where he'd been making an eye at the waitress.

"I wish the staring would stop," Heavy looked down at his huge hands resting on the brilliant white of the tablecloth.

"And it will mon ami!" Spy suddenly appeared with a flourish causing Soldier to reflexively grab for a shovel that wasn't there. "I 'ave it on good authority zat zis champagne is as ztrong as it comes. In an 'our zese idiots will 'ardly know zere own names, never mind zat we are 'ere."

He was carrying a tray with glasses filled to the absolute brim with what was probably hugely expensive champagne. He'd put his espionage training into practice and the crowds hadn't noticed his weaving between them. The waiters hadn't noticed that he'd stolen one of their trays either. It was a pitiful use of his finely honed skills but times were hard. Putting the tray down on the table he barely had time to withdraw his hand before it was taken off as the rest lunged in to grab a glass. Despite Demoman's best efforts there was even a glass left for him.

Engineer raised an eyebrow at Spy over the rim, "These don't much seem like the type 'a folk that cut loose like that."

"And 'ere I zought you trusted me," Spy smirked in mock indignation, "Just wait and see."

The rest of the table shrugged at each other before turning their attentions back to their own booze. Like everything else about this evening, the glasses had not been designed for people like them. They were so fine they were practically made of sugar glass and the ridiculously spindly stem may have added to the elegance but did nothing for the practicality. Heavy looked almost scared to be holding his, dwarfed as it was in his massive bear paws. Medic was coping, being experienced enough to grasp it around the fullest part of the cup to avoid tipping the overfull thing. Demoman had already thrown the fizzy liquid back, taking it as a shot of extra courage to keep his emotional armour functioning. Scout had already almost poured the contents all over himself. Spy raised his glass into the centre of the table, the unspoken toast being that they would make it through this evening.

Sniper drained his glass, trying to stop the bubbles going up his nose, "I hope yer right mate. I hope yer right."

XXXXX

The speeches hadn't been so bad. The representative of Redmond Mann who had spoken on his behalf had completely ignored the team despite their sitting almost underneath him. The man also drew no attention their way, which was strange given that this whole affair was basically to fund their efforts against the BLUs. There had been a horrible moment when they'd realised this and been terrified they were going to have to make a speech of their own, perhaps a demonstration of their skills and usefulness in the fight against BLU. Thankfully the organisers also seemed to have realised what an awful idea this would have been and the company speech passed without incident.

Then they had to sit through an over-inflated windbag congratulating himself and the other investors on just how clever and wonderful they all were. Every so often he would cast a superior glance their way as if to reassure himself of his position on the social scale. It really ground Scout's gears, hitting hard at his inferiority complex brought on by having seven older brothers. This was on top of the fact that he struggled to keep still at the best of times and had already been sitting in one place for at least half an hour. Spy thought it was interesting how close the experience was bringing the team. No one else was cross on their own behalf, but only on that of others. Sniper and Pyro were casting the speaker burning looks, as if mentally willing the fat little man to justify how he could feel superior to a man with eleven hard science PhDs. Heavy had his arms folded as he measured the little baby up against their Medic while Medic arched an eyebrow, wondering just who it was in this room had a degree in Russian literature. Soldier and Demoman had chosen to mentally comment on the physical aspects of the speaker rather than the mental. They were probably about the same age as the man, but they were in their physical prime whereas he looked as if he would get winded walking to the buffet table.

Thankfully even the rest of the room seemed to tire of him after twenty minutes and the band neatly finished his speech for him by starting to tune up their instruments. The idiot huffed and puffed but a relieved looking Bidwell had appeared to soothe his ruffled ego and direct him back to his seat. Strangely enough Saxton Hale seemed to have disappeared at some point as his loud running commentary on the speeches had died off some time before. None of them had seen Saxton's other harried assistant Reddy throughout the whole evening. All of them were quite thankful that they hadn't come across the Administrator either – no doubt she would find something to tear them one of those structurally superfluous new behinds about.

Despite the fact it was 1968 the band had evidently stepped through a time-warp from the early fifties. In pastel blue suits with black lapels and hair motor-oiled into a variety of flicks and cowlicks they made an impressive sight. The lead singer had a jaw-line to rival Rock Hudson's and teeth so bright they could start a bush fire on a sunny day. Judging by the way he was grinning out at the room he thought he was God's gift to the human race, as if there wasn't enough people like that in the room already. They had a large piano set up, two guitars, a bass, a double-bass and even a violin so they'd be able to cover the evening's music requirements. For Pyro, Engineer and Soldier the band was possibly the least aggravating part of the evening so far as it brought back strong memories from their teenage years in the dance halls of America. While it had less powerful cultural connotations for the others in their thirties and forties, especially Heavy, it was at least music of their generation and not too unbearable. For Scout the evening just kept getting worse and worse, granddad music, on top of everything else.

As with all functions the dance floor was completely empty for the first couple of songs. Without having to focus their attention onto one thing the guests were starting to mingle. Despite Engineer's misgivings it seemed Spy had been right, the crowds around them were already starting to get the hum of the nicely liquored up. The initial shock of the team's presence seemed to have worn off and they'd reverted to their usual pastime of trying to one up each other. The table next to theirs was having a heated bitching session about the clothes of the table across from theirs, seemingly forgetting the outrage of having commoners sitting right next to them.

Finally away from the intense scrutiny they'd suffered through since the minute they stepped off the train, the team could finally start to relax. Demoman immediately turned his attention back to one of the prettier waitresses who looked rather attracted to his ruggedness. Grinning at them all he slid out of his seat to make his way over to where she stood filling up extra glasses.

Spy grabbed his arm before he got too far, "A zexual 'arassment lawsuit will not look good, oui?"

Demoman laughed aloud, "Ach ya worry too much, Froggie."

Spy watched his retreating, and already swaying, back before looking around the room. The rest of them clearly weren't worrying enough.

XXXXX

Leaving the bathroom, Scout surreptitiously wiped his damp hands on the back of his trousers where it would be hidden by his jacket. Despite the fact it was about 90 degrees in the ballroom Spy had forbidden anyone to remove any articles of clothing whatsoever. He'd said something about keeping up appearances at all times which Scout guessed kinda made sense. However he was much more interested in why the hell there had been a red velvet sofa in the bathroom. He didn't know how things went down in high society but back home the toilet was a purely functional area. You did your business privately and in total silence then got the hell out of there. No eye contact, no acknowledgement and certainly no goddamn chitchat. Thankfully the only other guy that had been in the room was so drunk he wasn't able to make conversation, instead busying himself with trying to haul himself up using the radiator. Scout had decided not to get involved and had simply watched for a while, smirking all the way.

Heading back towards the ballroom he passed an open door leading to another smaller, darkened room. He'd been concentrating on following the paintings he recognised so that he wouldn't get lost when he chanced a glance through it. Inside he could see a woman having a smoke by one of the floor length windows, the spotlights from outside occasionally lighting up the room.

She was young, around about his age probably, but clearly looked at ease with being immaculately presented. A tight satin dress revealed a figure a pin-up would be jealous of and he'd always had a thing for red-heads. On catching his silhouette against the lighted doorway she turned and smiled at him. Scout's instincts warred with themselves – on one hand she was smokin' hot and was looking at him like he was a piece of meat: she was interested and he'd be a fool not to go for it. Scout's mama didn't raise no fool. On the other, this was almost certainly going to go wrong and the shit-storm that could follow would top even the time he'd accidentally destroyed the toilet block in the base and it hadn't been fixed for a week. She beckoned him over and he grinned. So what if the team would strangle him, it would hardly be the first time.

XXXXX

Meanwhile Sniper was also having an encounter with the opposite sex, only not really as enjoyable. He'd stupidly left the safety of the table to go and investigate the food that had eventually been laid out. In the middle of shovelling artsy layered biscuit things onto the two plates he was balancing on one hand, a woman had come up to him. Feeling a light tap on his shoulder he remembered where he was enough to turn around with a pleasant expression, rather than just grunting at them that he was busy.

He also managed to suppress the reflexive 'holy dooley' on seeing just what he was facing. Sniper had never liked ridiculously thin girls. He'd always been of the opinion that a woman needed at least some meat on her bones. But this woman was not only taking the biscuit but probably eating it too. She was massive. Despite only coming up to somewhere around Sniper's chest she was at least twice as wide as him, if not more. What's worse was that she was clearly either unaware of this fact or in serious denial as her dress was so small her ample cleavage was spilling out everywhere. Desperately averting his eyes to anywhere but the display below Sniper managed to stutter out a 'ma'm' and prayed she was just going to ask him to move along.

Size would have meant nothing if the woman had been in possession of a decent personality. However the spoiled entitlement rolled off her in waves and she only wanted one thing. Sniper's body. A small corner of his mind tried to remind him that this sort of attention was very flattering and he should be enjoying himself. Unfortunately it was completely drowned out by the rest of his mind flailing in a mad panic trying to think of a way to politely extricate himself from the situation. The need to be accommodating to these investors had been drilled into them so hard he couldn't go with his first instinct which was to run, screaming, for the hills. She wasn't helping her case by backing him up right against the buffet table. A lifetime in the wide open plains of Australia had made him unable to cope with small or confined spaces, whether they be physical or a matter of etiquette as this was. The only way he could function in them was to have his rifle and plenty of targets to take his mind off things.

Over the intense flirtations that were rapidly becoming seriously indecent and over her head he couldn't seem to catch the eye of any of his comrades to come rescue him. Avoiding making eye-contact and starting to blush he just hoped she would lose interest soon.

XXXXX

Although Sniper was at the wrong angle to see him, Medic was keeping an amused eye on the situation. It was the only way he was getting through the socially awkward situation of his own. Well, he was describing it as socially awkward when what he really meant was awkwardness coupled with racism. The fact that it had been twenty years since the war had ended meant nothing to the truly stupid. There was no covering up an accent as strong as his, despite his complete fluency in English, and living out in the wilds of America it was no longer a surprise to be targeted for it. The table near theirs had asked if anyone was a doctor, wanting advice on some tablets one of the middle age men were taking. Medic had been passing and even though he wasn't technically a doctor without a medical license after that whole skeleton issue, he'd offered to help. The man's wife, clearly frustrated with her life, had immediately demanded that he sit with them and have a drink.

She was very attractive, unlike poor Sniper's company for the evening, and was completely intrigued by his European exoticism. This would have made for a very pleasant evening if her husband wasn't currently trying to glare a hole in his head. It was hardly Medic's fault that he wasn't keeping his wife happy. If he should be angry with one of them it should surely be her, he was just sitting here making conversation. But naturally, even away from the base he was surrounded by idiots. So far the man had slipped in at least four snide references to the war and was getting progressively less subtle about it. He was about ten minutes away from flat-out crowing that America had won the war, ignoring the contributions of the rest of the allies naturally, and about another few minutes of his wife inching closer to Medic to flat-out accuse him of having been a Nazi.

Despite the intervening years this was still an incredibly sensitive subject and Medic wasn't sure how well he'd be able to keep his temper. He had not been a Nazi although during the late thirties and to the end of the war it had been impossible not to have some contact with the party as it was all-encompassing. It was probably a first but he found himself wishing Spy was around. The smooth Frenchman would surely distract the husband onto matters of cowardice in battle and the wife with his even more attractive accent. Unfortunately the Spy had disappeared some time ago and didn't seem to be answering his mental summons. Tearing his eyes away from the way Sniper was skilfully avoiding a pudgy hand reaching for his chest Medic gritted his teeth and smiled pleasantly at his companions. Something had better come along soon or things were going to get ugly.

XXXXX

Spy was well aware that Medic needed someone to help him. He could see from here the tense set of the German's shoulders and the way the husband of the woman was getting drunker and more likely to open his stupid mouth. Unfortunately Spy was having trouble of his own and he'd have gladly taken Medic or Sniper's problems over this one. A very drunk man around the size of Heavy had his arm around Spy's shoulders and was lecturing him on the finer points of American football. He'd been coming in from the front after a much needed smoke and entering the room he'd been accosted by the man who'd asked him what he'd thought of the previous night's game. Spy had been distracted trying to locate the rest of the team to check no disasters had happened in the five minutes he'd been away, and mentioned off-hand that Saint-Étienne had been champions for two years so it was no surprise they'd beaten Ajaccio who would be lucky to avoid relegation. The man was not the sharpest and it had taken him a full minute to realise that Spy had meant soccer.

This had led to the man demanding to know why Spy didn't watch American football and the refusal to accept Spy's perfectly reasonable explanation that no one in France played it so there was no reason for him to have any interest in it. Rather than letting Spy move away to continue to fight any social fires that could be about to start, the man had slapped a meaty palm onto the fine fabric of his suit and launched into a rant on the virtues of the sport. Spy couldn't very well tell the man that he considered it to be glorified rugby and the only game really worth playing was pétanque so he was forced to stand altogether too close to the huge man and listen. Not only was this an excruciatingly boring waste of time but it was also prevented him running the interference he had a feeling was going to become very necessary.

The rest of the team had already relied on him to get them through several awkward moments this evening and with the amount of drinks floating about it wouldn't be long before something snapped. Making an interested noise at the idea of something called a 'wide-receiver' and resisting the urge to make a snide comment on the homo-eroticism of such a name, he continued his valiant attempt to sidle away from the drunk.

XXXXX

Speaking of homo-eroticism, Soldier and Engineer had also found themselves in quite the pickle. As soon as they'd planted their asses on their seats at the table they knew it was the safest place to be. Packed in the corner on the opposite side to the dance floor the two of them had contented themselves with eating, drinking and keeping up a running commentary on the people and events of the evening. Being similar in age and cultural background they had become fast friends quickly when they'd met in Teufort and this bond with each other was apparently very obvious. Unfortunately it seems that this all-American friendship was easy to misinterpret after a whole bottle of powerful champagne and a group of three women had joined them at the table to question them on their 'relationship'.

Soldier had just looked at them funny at first, not understanding why such a simple question was asked with raised eyebrows and tittering from behind gloved hands. Engineer had understood them immediately, but was prevented from replying by the horror that arose from this notion. His philosophy was each to their own so he wasn't all that offended, but just who could think of them that way? Evidently these three young ladies who were swooning and blushing as they asked questions that Engineer felt were down-right personal, even if they didn't apply. Taking his pained stuttering as bashfulness (and thus a confirmation of their suspicions) they even squealed loud enough to wake the dead. Wiggling his ear to try and confirm it still worked Soldier glared at the women and looked at the extremely uncomfortable Engineer to fill him in on just what the hell was going on.

Engineer looked at him helplessly, unable to form a coherent sentence to get the point across to his friend. If he couldn't figure out how to lay this down Soldier would demand they explain themselves and judging by their previous questions they would be more forthright than he reckoned the military man could take. They were momentarily distracted by a high-pitched female shrieking giggle from somewhere outside the ballroom and Engineer seized on the opportunity to re-direct the conversation onto the ladies themselves. Utilising all his southern charm he pretended to be interested in their insipid chatter while actively encouraging Soldier to join in, hoping that it would keep his friend's mind off the previous conversation completely.

Unfortunately Soldier had all the tenacity of a mule and once he was confused by something he rarely rested until he understood the matter. Slapping a hand down on the table with all the grace of a baboon he interrupted one of them in the middle of a sentence and asked politely (for him) for them to tell him exactly what was going on. Engineer watched him with fascinated horror, everything seemed to be in slow motion suddenly. A small part of his mind commended Soldier on remembering not to include any of his creative ass-related threats when questioning the women and was also quite interested to see just how this was going to go down. The woman rolled her eyes and patted his hand, explaining just what their interest in the two of them was.

Soldier sat stunned and silent. Engineer braced himself.

XXXXX

Pyro forced something she hoped was like a smile onto her face as she pressed her back further up against the marble pillar she was standing next to. Until this point she'd been having a relatively good time. Oh of course the other women had made disparaging comments about her sturdy figure and the fact she wasn't exactly as light on her feet as the rest of them but that didn't matter. None of them could do what she could and she'd never been a girly-girl anyway. She'd had a couple of fun talks with the one or two people who seemed genuinely interested in what the team did. She'd even had a couple of dances with an older gentleman who'd said that having an interesting life was worth much more than a full bank account. However after that it had gone downhill.

The sleazier gentlemen in the room had been egging each other on to try it with 'the Amazon' as they'd dubbed her for being taller and stronger than all of them. The women who had been laughing at her before had joined in with them, hoping that she would embarrass herself. So far all that had happened was Pyro moving around the room trying to ignore all the assholes and cursing every time she saw that the rest of the team was too tied up to help her. If she'd been anywhere else a good beating would have stopped them trying to mess with her but she didn't feel like being the one responsible for putting the team out on the street. So here she was, trying to keep her desire to be anywhere else off her face while some loser crowded her against the pillar.

His aftershave was overpowering, like he'd had a bath in the stuff, and his hair was slicked down with so much grease his ears were shiny. He clearly believed he was some kind of smooth-talker and she was inching around the circumference of the pillar to avoid his breath as he attempted to whisper things in her ear. His friends were snickering and elbowing each other behind them and she had a real struggle on her hands to tamp down the urge to stuff a napkin in a bottle, light the damn thing and fling it right into their smug faces. Romeo McHairgel suddenly backed away slightly and she realised her flame-filled fantasies had leaked into her expression. Doing her best to normalise her face and get the crazed look off it she giggled behind her hand and prayed that something was going to intervene.

XXXXX

Usually it would have been Demoman that would have been the miracle Pyro was currently after. They usually watched each other's backs on the battlefield and it would have extended to tonight as well if he hadn't been in the middle of a fierce drinking competition. The pretty waitress he'd been chatting up had been pulled away by her angry boss but not before he'd managed to get her number written on the back of his hipflask. Angry ball-goers, cross over the fact that the waitressing staff were swooning over someone they felt was below them, had challenged him to a drink off in the hope of proving their rugged credentials to everyone. Despite the head-waiter's completely justified concerns several bottles of fine whisky were brought up to the table. The ladies sitting there had been shooed away to where they stood around the circled men, tutting with disapproval at them all.

Demoman was supremely unconcerned, and it showed. He spent around sixty percent of his life completely hammered and his liver, constantly repaired with re-spawn, was more than able to handle this sort of petty challenge. As the men around him got more and more loose he merely chucked his shots back and lounged in the comfortable chair with practiced ease. By the time they'd powered through half the liquor two of the men had already crossed the threshold and had been hauled away either to be sick or to be brought back to consciousness. The rest were swaying in their chairs and pulling stupid faces as they tried ridiculously hard to concentrate on looking sober. Demoman was just starting to get a nice buzz going and was wondering what the chances were of getting a kebab in a place like this.

The ladies, who had at first been so dismissive of him, were warming up to him as he made casual flirtations while the rest of the table could barely string a sentence together. This really did not help matters as the general mood of the gentlemen at the table took a chill turn. Secretly Demoman hoped something would happen so he could crack a few skulls, but his mam would kill him for losing his job. Still, if these boys had any more to drink they wouldn't be much good in a fight, he smirked, more than ready to keep going until he was last man standing.

XXXXX

As all these unfortunate events unfolded Heavy was also desperately wishing he was elsewhere too. He hadn't realised, as a Russian man, just how good he had it with his employment and fellows at the base. All of them were from such differing walks of life that the differences between them were just accepted, allowing them to mesh into a cohesive team that had no trouble beyond the occasional jibe about age, race or occupation. This had turned out not to be the case at this ridiculous party. No one had dared say anything for most of the evening as they all had the sense of self-preservation enough to find Heavy terrifying. However now they'd had a few too many shots of liquid courage they all were all suddenly doctors of political science and felt it was their place to question him on his personal politics.

Even Soldier had never really bought into the whole reds-under-the-bed nonsense, despite occasionally having issues with Medic whenever he was having flashbacks. It had been over ten years since McCarthy's death but it was clear these rich people feared the equalising ideals of communism more than anything else. He was surrounded by a group of baby men, all talking at once and clearly believing they were helping him by telling him how terrible his home country was. He sniffed, tuning them out and focussing on not smashing another of the tiny baby glasses trying to have a drink. Remarks about himself and his homeland weren't going to get to him. He'd been to a gulag as a child, he cared for his mothers and sisters, he killed many tiny BLU babies – this was nothing. Looking around the room he was rather jealous of Sniper – that was a good, strong woman following him around the buffet table there. He also made a mental note to crush the man making little Pyro upset. Men did not dare be so bold with his sisters – his mamma was the real bear of the family and would gladly take a rolling pin to any man hassling a lady.

Suddenly his attention was drawn back to the men surrounding him. Someone had mentioned Medic. Seeing they'd finally gotten something through his armour of indifference the tiny man repeated what he had just said very slowly, mocking Heavy for his lack of fluency in the language. Heavy cracked his knuckles as he weighed up his options. Obviously this pathetic baby could not get away with calling Medic those vile names but perhaps it would be better to wait until the funding was given before finding this man, and then crushing him. The man called the strong, dignified doctor who had helped him many times that name again. The glass in his hand shattered.

XXXXX

The REDs were a team. They had worked together for a long time, they knew each other well, and their timing was always impeccable. Therefore it should have been no surprise that several things kicked off at once and led to one of the most talked about events in Teufort history.

The spark was Scout running into the room at top speed looking flustered and not nearly as well presented as the rest of them had last seen him. A lead weight dropped solidly into Spy's stomach as he realised this was it. They were doomed.

An extremely angry older man wheezed through the doorway, followed by a terrified young woman who was pulling on his arm trying to stop him. The whole ballroom heard, as the band had stopped playing so they could hear too, that Scout had slept with his daughter and that the boy was going to pay.

The silence was broken was a horrified roar from Soldier who practically turned the table over when he jumped up to protest the women's accusations.

After that it was pandemonium as several things started happening. Feeling that they were screwed anyway and may as well go down fighting the rest of the RED team threw off any pretence of civility.

Engineer managed to haul Soldier away as his friend verbally tore the flesh off the bones of his accusers to the shock and horror of those around them. This of course caused their male relatives to come forward, looking like they were going to enjoy the chance to beat on the two Americans.

Pyro sent up silent thanks for being able to do what she was about to. The slimy bastard chatting her up had taken advantage of her inattention as she focused on Scout's guilty expression to feel her up. In full view of his chortling friends she pulled a fist back and, holding it a few milliseconds to give it extra spring, slammed it into his self-satisfied face so hard it knocked him out cold. The group who had been smirking so smugly now looked terrified as she rounded on them with a manic gleam in her eye.

Sniper heard Pyro's mad laugh as she started letting out some pent-up aggression and decided sod it. He was a gentleman but having a lady grab your crown jewels none-too-gently was just too far. Prising her hand off he shoved her away, having to use more force than he expected. She tottered back and screamed in outrage as Sniper leapt past to give Scout a hand in the middle of the ballroom floor.

Demoman roared with laughter as he enjoyed the carnage that had suddenly exploded around him. The man across the table from him knocked all the glasses over in an attempt to get to him, forgetting that he was totally drunk. Demoman just tripped him and let him hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, snatching the bottle out of his hand to smash on the head of another would be assailant. He sighed happily; it was just like being back in Scotland.

Heavy hadn't even closed his fist to despatch the man who had been so offensive about Medic. He had merely backhanded him so hard to rattle all his teeth and remind the rest of the so-called politicians just who they were dealing with. Unlike the other classes, for some reason, they weren't as keen to pick a fight with him. Heavy just smiled, he would just have to bring the fight to them.

Medic watched this all unfold and decided that he'd been very good recently. On hearing the woman's achingly stupid husband disparage the team he turned away from the fights breaking out around the hall and smiled at the wife. Standing up he brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it, and with a murmured excusal, hit her husband square in the nose. On checking the man wasn't dead he nodded to her, and then swept off to join his team in the centre of the floor.

Spy pinched the bridge of his nose with his long fingers. They'd been doing so well; they could have made it to the end of the evening. Glaring at his rather shell-shocked companion he removed the man's arm and debated whether to get involved. The several concurrent fist-fights had moved together onto the dance floor and conjoined into one massive bar-brawl with non-combatants lining the sides. The team was hopelessly outnumbered, and all the investors were keen to put them in their place. However there was no way in hell the team was outclassed and each member was more than holding their own, working together as a flawless unit.

On seeing a man approaching Sniper's back with a broken chair leg Spy decided that even if he could save himself by not being involved, there was nowhere else he'd rather be than with the team. A well-thrown glass ended the man's ambitions as the Frenchman jumped straight into the fray.

XXXXX

Watching the carnage unfold on a huge screen, the Administrator smirked around her cigarette. The two shadowy figures standing around her large chair with folded arms nodded to each other. Bidwell and Reddy, both looking much more roughed up than they had earlier in the evening, were braced against each other to stop themselves falling over. In front of them, hands clasped and vibrating with excitement, was Saxton Hale. His jacket was missing and one of the sleeves of his shirt had been torn off. His hair was mussed with pieces of what looked like broken glass through it but his moustache was as impeccable as it had been several hours ago.

"They do work well together," one of the shadowy figures spoke up.

"We should get down there and help the team!" Saxton roared, slapping his bruised knuckles against his palm while Bidwell and Reddy looked horrified at the prospect of more fighting.

The Administrator rolled her eyes, "Shut up Saxton. I told you gentleman, that team works better together and makes much more of an attempt to follow instructions."

"Come along now, Administrator, those instructions were just for your entertainment. You just like watching them struggle to fit into normal society."

She smirked, "Well, but you don't see real teamwork until you push them to the limit."

"It took the BLU team less than half the time to show us what we wanted to see."

"That team is full of hot-headed idiots. They didn't even try to ignore those malicious windbags."

The two shadowy figures just rolled their eyes at each other before moving away towards the door. "Redmond Mann will get his funding, just as Blutarch will."

The Administrator's smirk widened, "At least admit you gentlemen had a good time."

"Goodbye Administrator, Saxton. See you both again in five years."

Saxton waited until the door was closed before sweeping over to the Administrator. She eyed him with distaste before reaching for her microphone.

XXXXX

"VICTORY!"

The sound of the Administrator's voice blaring out of the speakers at 150 decibels put an effective end to the fight. It worked because the civilians had been thoroughly deafened and the team were so conditioned to obey that screeching voice.

In the brief moment everyone was frozen in position Spy took the opportunity to check on the team. They'd spent so long working together on the battlefield that even in the ridiculous scenario they found themselves in now their strategies were the same. Heavy and Medic were back to back, Heavy making sure to keep Medic safe while Medic, unhampered by his healing equipment, showed just how much of a battle-medic he really was. Pyro, Engineer and Sniper had formed their usual trio but Engineer was hampered by not being able to use his right-hand for fear of really hurting someone. Soldier and Scout were taking their offensive duties seriously while Demoman was watching Spy's own back for him, unnecessary as it was.

"RED team, your transport is waiting. Get back to the base."

Giving each other guilty looks the team painfully disentangled themselves from their assailants and, given their violent tendencies, were allowed to leave the hall unmolested. As they left they heard the swell of outrage behind them and rushed out of the building. Running down the steps none of them could help the burst of slightly hysterical laughter that bubbled out of them all on realising what they'd just done.

Piled back into the transport and on their way back to face the music they looked each other over. A lucky shot had left Soldier with a bleeding nose which he was sopping up with the silk handkerchief that had been in his breast pocket. Pyro's hair had been yanked out of its sculpted up-do and was hanging around her face. Engineer was nursing what was surely going to turn into a black eye within the next few hours. Heavy had been cut by some broken glass along his arm, leaving several deep scratches. Medic had aching shoulders where he'd taken a chair across the back. Spy's jaw felt out of place and clicked alarmingly when he moved it. Sniper was sure his hand was broken after he'd taken a mistimed swing at a man almost twice his size. Demoman was the least worst for wear, sheer experience in drunken scraps had stood him in good stead. Scout had been protected from the worst of it by the rest who still couldn't shake their protective natures, but was still sporting a split eyebrow that was occasionally dribbling blood down his face.

They'd never been happier to see the base in all its comforting glory than they were when they stepped off the train. Trooping down the familiar corridors to the rec room they all tried to memorise the feel and smell of the place, thinking they would never see the place again once the Administrator was through with them. Scout was feeling particularly guilty but the rest hadn't said anything – all of them had lost their temper and done something they shouldn't that had led to that massive barney.

The Administrator's severe face was already waiting for them on the big screen when they arrived. Standing close to each other for moral support they waited for the axe to fall.

She stretched the almost unbearable silence as far as it would go. Even Scout didn't dare run his mouth, realising that could only make the situation even worse. Administrator noticed with a start that she actually felt something on seeing the RED team looking so despondent. The BLU team were already celebrating their continued existence; she was rather surprised the team couldn't hear their drunken noise coming from across the way. She'd been telling the truth when she'd said this team worked better together. They were willing to put themselves out there for each other in way their rivals just weren't prepared to do. Deciding they'd been under enough pressure for one night the Administrator smiled, cursing herself for going soft on enjoying seeing their tentatively hopeful reactions.

"Funding has been secured. You are on our books for another five years."

"Mon Dieu, 'ow?"

"That's for me to know. All that matters to you is that you will be wasting my resources for the foreseeable future."

The team watched her suspiciously so she just rolled her eyes, told them they had done adequately and signed off.

Soldier was the first to react, tears of pride gleaming in his eyes as he swept his helmet back onto his head, "You've made me proud maggots!"

Demoman and Pyro jumped up and the two of them danced around in a circle whooping at the knowledge that their destructive tendencies were still going to be paid for. Engineer and Sniper joined them and eventually the team was standing in what a hippy might term a 'group hug'.

Spy shot his cuffs and smirked at their celebrations, thinking about breaking into the bottle of champagne he had stashed in his room. A cough from the team drew his attention back to them; they were all standing looking at him expectantly. They'd made a break in the circle for him to join them.

Touched, he decided that maybe his champagne could wait. Joining them, he even joined in with their cheer of joy. RED was more than just a team, it was family.

XXXXX

R/R


	5. Chapter 5

**A short epilogue to round off the story! If university doesn't have me taken out round the back of the barn old yella style these will be the characters that feature in any future stories – probably one shots of various scenarios. Any clever people with any ideas should drop me a line. Thank you to my reviewers; you make me feel all sorts of hippy-ish things! **

**Enjoy!**

XXXXX

A few days later eight of the nine mercenaries were lounging around in the rec room and pretending that they weren't all eavesdropping on the conversation happening at the payphone outside the unusually open window. Over the top of the turning of book pages and Scout's baseball lazily changing hands, a one-sided show down could be heard.

"Look, I already told ya, it weren't that bad!" A voice with a thick Australian accent pleaded down the phone.

The fact that Sniper's father was thousands of miles away on another continent didn't dampen the volume of his voice. If the people inside strained a little they could hear odd snatches of ranting, most notably the words 'my son', 'not only a crazed gunman' 'brawling' and 'ruined a perfectly good suit'.

To say Sniper was looking tense was an understatement. The man usually chose to go the payphone at the gas station in his many attempts to hash things out with his parents but the Administrator had told them all to stay close to the base for an announcement sometime during the day. Those who had witnessed these conversations before knew it went through phases. It would start off pleasant, as Sniper's mum usually answered, then it would descend into Sniper cajoling, getting annoyed with, then finally snapping at his father which was where the real fireworks started. Usually it ended with Sniper slamming the phone down then wandering off to murder any innocent wildlife around the base that looked at him funny.

He'd snuck out to the phone while the rest of the team had been eating breakfast but glaring in through the window he realised he should've known they'd have come for a listen. Sighing he tipped his hat back to cover his neck from the burning sun. The rage coming off his father was worse than it had been in a while. It was all the stupid Teufort Times' fault. He'd forgotten that his mother had taken out an overseas subscription so that she could keep an eye on what was going on around him. It was a sweet gesture that his father had scoffed at and now he wished she'd just listened to the man. Half tuning out the outraged rumblings spewing out of the phone he idly cast his mind back to the much better reaction the team had had on seeing the rag.

That's all the Teufort Times was: a rag. As nothing of any interest beyond the occasional localised explosion coming from the RED and BLU encampments the paper ran with whatever they had. Therefore they knew practically every dirty secret of the few people living in the area and had practically a full biography on everyone who passed through looking for gas or directions. On a normal week, it was only weekly; the paper sometimes managed to scrape up to perhaps eleven pages, and that was only the times when one of the teams had sauntered into town for supplies. So, naturally, when faced with the ridiculous story of the massive punch-up at what they'd discovered was a fancy retreat for the rich and famous, the paper had gone hog-wild.

Evidently one of the waiters at the place was something of a photography aficionado with a very modern camera and an instinct for earning money. In glorious detail, spread out over at least twenty pages, was the team engaged in the serious business of beating up the room full of investors. Engineer had picked up the copy first; it'd been his turn to run into town for perishable supplies and the giggling till girl had practically shoved it into his hands. Getting back to the truck he'd realised it was a bit thicker than usual and once he'd loaded everything up, he sat in the cab and flicked through it. After that he'd sped back to the base at full speed, breaking into the rec room without even unpacking the supplies and spread it on the table.

The headline said it all: '**Rowdy REDs on the Rampage!**' The BLU team were also bound to have a witty and alliterative title on the cover of the Teufort Chronicle which covered their exploits in similar detail. The first two pages were taken up with setting the scene. A shot of the hotel was followed by a few group pictures of the various guests, usually the most important. Medic was rather pleased to learn that the stupid man he'd had to deal with had turned out to be a petty government official. It turned out Scout's little fling had been the mayor's daughter. Heavy had backhanded the chief of the town's police almost into hospital. Sniper's molester was head of the women's institute. All in all between them they'd faced down the administration of the whole town. After the introductory shots, the fun started.

A picture of the nine of them looking a combination of very nervous and very pissed off. A picture of them basking in the Australian glory that is Saxton Hale. A picture of Soldier and Engineer looking confused and aghast respectively at the three sisters of the local doctor. Pyro dancing with the head of the community college ("He weren't so bad!"). Spy not quite masking the look of complete disdain for the high school's football coach. Then a picture of Scout, looking flustered with his tie undone, having obviously just skidded to a halt in the middle of the dance floor. An action shot of Soldier pointing an accusing finger right in the woman's face while Engineer tried to haul him away. Pyro vaulting a table to get at the idiots who'd been bothering her all night. Sniper casting a hunted look over his shoulder at the fat woman. Spy caught half-way through flinging the glass that took out the man with the chair leg.

After that just picture after picture of the team at their violent best. They winced and ooh'd and ahh'd as they flicked through them, the occasional burst of laughter arising on seeing something particularly good. Heavy and Medic had done a sterling job of keeping a space open around them, not many guests were drunk enough to try their luck against the mountain that was Heavy. Sniper, Pyro and Engineer were less lucky as not everyone had seen Pyro knock a man out cold in one hit and saw her as the weak link. The rest smiled on seeing a shot of Soldier and Spy back to back with Demoman swinging a chair round over a ducking Scout. On reaching the end of the paper the last picture was of them leaving the hall, the defeated guests letting them past with various expressions of fear and anger.

"Aye, twas a braw night!" Demoman laughed before shuffling away to pick out another bottle.

"We kicked ass, you all ain't so bad for old folks," Scout's mocking grin didn't fade as he dodged several slaps to the ear from the rest of the team.

Spy merely smirked as they started going through the photos again in more detail. Back in France he'd been to many such balls, usually as a waiter to put himself through the Sorbonne, but this had definitely been the most fun. Even if he had come away with a fractured jaw and no female companionship for the evening.

While the reaction of the team had been fun, the reaction of Sniper's parents wasn't quite as positive. Snapping back to the present Sniper realised that his dad still hadn't run out of nasty things to say about him and the team even though it had been a good seven minutes or so. He covered the mouthpiece and sighed. He just wasn't in the mood for this. The team had been getting along so much better and he was actually looking forward for the cease-fire to end so they could get back to doing their jobs of sticking it to the BLUs. He was quite touched to see Pyro and Engineer lean out of the window on hearing him sigh to check that he was alright. Usually by now he was giving back as good as he got, not just taking the abuse his dad felt like giving out. The rest of the team weren't far behind them and he could see Soldier getting angrier and angrier as he listened to what Mundy Snr had to say.

Finally the mental military man, Sniper realised with horror that the Teufort Times was getting to his thought processes, strode away from the window. The rest of the team were mouthing things to say and giggling to each other when Sniper shot them down. Maybe he should bring them with him every time he spoke to his parents; they certainly made the whole thing more bearable. He almost choked down the phone when Demoman suggested something hugely inappropriate regarding a kangaroo and the team had to move away from the window for a second so Sniper's parents wouldn't hear them laughing. Evidently he hadn't managed to cover it up well enough as his dad started practically shouting down the phone at him for disrespecting him.

Wilting under the renewed assault Sniper didn't hear Soldier appear behind him. The first he knew of it was when the man snatched the phone out of his hand. The team were practically outside they were hanging so far out of the window to listen and Sniper just covered his eyes with his hands.

"Now you listen to me maggot! Your son might not be an American but I am damn proud to have him on my team! He doesn't need you affecting his performance in the field. He will phone you again next week and by then you'd better have changed your attitude son!"

With a final growl down the handset Soldier slammed the phone down to the cheers of the team. Sniper looked totally shell-shocked as he stared at the handset. Bringing him back inside Soldier clapped a hand on his shoulder. The team flocked around them and Spy handed Sniper one of his fancy cigarettes which Pyro lit for him.

Surrounded by his laughing team he could definitely say his parents had them and him all wrong. If his parents were never going to accept him at least he had eight other people that would.

XXXXX

R/R!


End file.
